Dead Reckonings
by dnachemlia
Summary: NCIS Crossover with another older show. AU. Plot: Two NCIS team members travel to an isolated cabin to pursue a lead and their lives are changed forever.
1. Chapter 1 Unfortunate Ending

Title: Dead Reckonings

Story: NCIS crossover (the second show is a surprise, see if you can guess)

Chapter 1 of ?

Rating: PG (minor language and a bit of gore)

Characters- 1st chapter: Ziva, McGee, mentions of Gibbs, DiNozzo, Abby, Ducky, Fornell and OMCs

Pairings: none

Beta: Strangevisitor

Summary: Two NCIS team members travel to an isolated cabin to pursue a lead and their lives are changed forever.

Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yadda, yadda

* * *

Chapter 1 – Unfortunate Ending

"Are you sure this is the right place?" asked McGee as he guided the sedan to a halt. The dirt road on which they had been traveling had abruptly ended and, about two hundred yards ahead, a cabin was barely visible through the thick forest.

"If you were worried about my ability to operate a GPS, McGee, maybe you should have let me drive," replied Ziva from the passenger seat.

"More worried about getting there in one piece," muttered McGee. Ziva shot him a dirty look and he stammered, "b-but I wasn't expecting this guy's cabin to be so…"

"Middle of nowhere? Corley said he was a…hermit."

Garvan Corley, the suspect in custody in their most recent case, had used a much more colorful expression. Ziva smirked at the memory.

"It does make one wonder what kind of person would choose such an unusual place to live. No modern conveniences: electricity, running water-"

"Cell phone coverage," added McGee after checking his own phone and failing to find a signal. "No internet, either. Maybe he's a neo-luddite."

"Or maybe he has something to hide. Explosives, perhaps?"

McGee turned to her, obviously surprised. "You think he was involved in the bombing?"

Three days before, an IED had been detonated in an unoccupied barrack at Camp Allen in Norfolk. Among the wreckage was the body of Lance Corporal Matthew McCready. Ducky had determined that the young marine had been shot three times in the chest prior to being badly burned in the explosion.

Corley, a civilian, had been apprehended when he attempted to leave the base after lock down, and Abby had been able to connect the gun he was carrying at the time to the bullets in McCready. Corley denied shooting the marine and setting off the bomb, but eventually Gibbs and DiNozzo got the man to admit he'd been involved.

It was his partner, Lorcan Keane who'd set off the bomb and shot McCready when he interrupted them. Corley also claimed that he had not known the full scope of the plan until it went down, and that the bomb was only supposed to produce "minor damage".

Keane had eluded capture and Corley offered that Lorcan's brother, Doran, might know where the elder Keane could be found. McGee had been able to track the brother down through property records to a homestead in the Appalachian mountains of southwestern Virginia, where he and Ziva were currently parked

"It is possible this brother is not an innocent relative," Ziva said. "In any case, we must be cautious. This feels like a trap." Wide-eyed, McGee simply nodded.

Ziva briefly wondered how Gibbs and DiNozzo were faring. They were headed to Norfolk to try and track down more information on how Corley had actually managed to get on the base in the first place. To make matters worse, Gibbs had also been occupied keeping Fornell from interfering. The FBI agent had insisted that the bombing was an act of terrorism, and therefore his jurisdiction.

Ziva decided that she was lucky to be with McGee for this errand instead of Gibbs. Encounters with Fornell always put Gibbs in a particularly foul mood, and it had been a really long drive…

She stepped out of the car, quietly shut the door, and headed up the trail towards the cabin, noting that McGee had followed her lead. When they reached the cabin, Ziva nodded to McGee and he moved to the far side of the door, drawing his weapon and holding it down by his right thigh, out of sight. She drew her own weapon, moved to the other side of the door, and knocked.

"Mr. Keane? Doran Keane? NCIS. We need to speak with you." She drew back from the door, expecting gunfire from within, but the cabin was silent.

"Mr. Keane?" she called, louder this time. Still no answer.

She reached down to test the doorknob and was surprised to find that it twisted easily. Ziva pushed on the door and it swung open with a soft creak of metal hinges. She motioned to McGee, who nodded in return and brought his gun up, ready to move. She stepped through the open door with her back to the wall and swept the room while McGee did the same. The two of them moved in opposite directions to make a circuit of the small cabin. As they regrouped back at the front door it was obvious that Keane was not at home and they'd found no evidence of any bomb-making equipment during their quick sweep. Ziva wasn't sure if she was annoyed or relieved.

McGee gestured to a chipped mug of still steaming liquid which sat on the edge of the battered wooden dining table.

"He was definitely here and not too long ago," observed McGee. "But we didn't see him leave, and there's no back door. So how did he get by us?"

They scanned the floor and ceiling for trap doors, but none were evident.

"Guess this one's a bust," muttered McGee.

"We should check the surrounding area. He cannot have gone far."

"Got it." McGee headed out the door.

After one final look around, Ziva followed.

* * *

Silence returned to the cabin, and after a hundred heartbeats, a new noise stirred the dead air. A wooden panel in the ceiling, imperceptible to the unknowing eye, slid back and a pair of boot-clad feet emerged. A tall, thin man carefully and quietly lowered himself through the gap to the floor. He glanced through the still open exterior door and smiled: he definitely had the advantage this time. After replacing the panel, he removed his weapons of choice from a small cabinet which stood near the far wall, grabbed his coat from the hook next to the door, and then quietly slipped outside to pursue his prey.

* * *

Ziva had turned right after exiting the cabin and was now a few feet from the door of a small outbuilding about fifty yards to the north. One whiff of the foul air surrounding the structure told her what its function was, and she turned away in disgust. She spotted another small outbuilding near the rear of the cabin and began walking towards it when she was startled by the sound of gunfire: three shots in quick succession. She turned and dashed toward the sound, resisting the urge to call out McGee's name. It was, after all, part of her training: never give away your position. She rounded the southwest corner of the cabin and froze at the strange sight. A dark-haired man, dressed entirely in black was pointing a revolver towards something hidden by the far side of the cabin. Casually, he put the gun away and withdrew a long blade from the lining of his duster. He raised the blade and stepped forward.

"FREEZE! Federal Agent! Drop your weapon!"

The man turned, the annoyance in his expression quickly morphing into amusement. He stared at her for a brief moment, winked, then turned and ran. She fired two shots at the man, sure she had hit him and surprised that it did not appear to slow him down at all. He disappeared into the forest before she had made it half way across the clearing. As she fought her way through the underbrush, she heard the roar of a powerful engine. She doubled her efforts and had almost made it to the tree line when a series of loud crashing noises and a fading roar told her he was making his escape on some sort of all terrain vehicle. She broke through into a clearing only to find the vehicle and driver were gone.

"Damn it," she spat. Their one good lead was in the wind. Gibbs was going to kill her. Her, and--

"McGee!" All thoughts of Gibbs had fled and she raced back to the cabin fearful of what she would find. As she approached the cabin what she saw made her blood run cold.

"Oh, no…"

She rushed forward, hoping it wasn't that bad, but when she drew closer she saw that her fears were justified.

McGee lay on his back, utterly still, with one arm outstretched. The front of his shirt was soaked in red. Two rivulets of dark congealing liquid ran from each side of his mouth, and small spatters around his lips and chin told her what she had not wanted to see: McGee's death had not been instantaneous. She thought of the pain and fear he must have experienced as his life drained away, drowning in his own blood, and her strength gave out.

She fell to her knees next to his body and as her eyes locked into his wide, staring ones, now glazed over in death, hot tears slid down her cheeks. Horrified at her weakness, her loss of control, she struggled to rein in her emotions. She knew there was nothing to be done for McGee, but she could damn well make sure his killer was caught. After releasing a shaky breath, which sounded more like a sob than she would ever admit, she rose to her feet and stepped away from McGee. She resisted the urge to reach down and close his eyelids, imagining the fit that Ducky would give her for touching the body.

_Do the job…Do the job…_

She could also imagine Gibbs telling her to focus. Gibbs kept them all together, making sure they all did what needed to be done. Gibbs would…She let out another shaky sob. Gibbs really was going to kill her. Under that gruff, no nonsense exterior, she knew how much he cared for his team members. _His_ team, to which she still sometimes felt like an outsider. There would be no tacit forgiveness waiting for her this time.

Especially since she could not forgive herself.

She cared for McGee. Working with him was almost like having a geeky, slightly annoying younger brother. While McGee was…_had been_ a good agent, competent despite the constant ragging from DiNozzo that suggested otherwise, and generally able to take care of himself, she still felt responsible. They never should have split up. This was her fault, and this time there was no one else to blame; not Ari, not even her father.

Ziva sighed. She would take whatever Gibbs had to dish out, but in the mean time, she had a job to do. She checked her cell phone: still no signal. They did not have a satellite phone, and she had not seen one in their search of the cabin. She would have to leave to get help, but first she needed to document the scene in case the killer returned to destroy evidence.

Since this had merely been an information-gathering trip, they had not brought the scene kit, but she still had her personal camera. That would do. Slowly, she began to photograph the clearing around the cabin, starting with McGee. She took a full series: overview, medium, and close-up, and had to bite her lip to keep herself focused as she documented the fatal wounds.

She carefully made her way around the site, hoping to identify something that would help find the killer. She noted and photographed a few footprints that did not match hers or McGee's. Maybe Abby would have some luck with those. The man had used a revolver, so she did not expect to find cartridge casings. She pushed back through the underbrush to the clearing, trying to find tire tracks, but the few she found were not very clear. She documented them anyway and returned to the cabin, where she searched for fingerprints and some other trace of the killer.

She checked the exterior every few minutes in case Keane had returned, but the area remained silent. Each glance outside ultimately brought her thoughts back to the still figure near the cabin, and finally, when she had done all she could with her limited resources, she decided it was time to leave. She wanted to make sure she got the rest of the team here before dark. Before…

She shuddered. She did not want to think about what would happen when the nocturnal residents of these woods found the body. She had seen it before and could not consider that happening to McGee. He deserved better.

Ziva returned to where McGee's body lay, carefully retrieved the car keys from his pocket, and looked down at him one last time.

"_Shalom_, my friend."

Turning her back on her fallen colleague, she headed towards the car and had gone just a few yards when she heard a sound behind her and felt a surge of pure fury.

_That bastard came back!_

She spun around, drawing her gun, and pointed it towards the source of the sound.

And screamed.

* * *

A/N: So, have you guessed the crossover? ;)

Translation of the Irish names:

Garvan Corley: "rough instigator" (or "shit stirrer", if you will)

Keane: Ancient; Lorcan: Cruel; Doran: Exiled


	2. Chapter 2 Rude Awakening

Title: Dead Reckonings

Story: NCIS crossover

Chapter 2 of ?

Rating: PG (language and a bit of gore)

Characters- 2nd chapter: Ziva, McGee, mentions of Gibbs, DiNozzo, and OMCs

Pairings: none

Beta: StrangeVisitor

Summary: Two NCIS team members travel to an isolated cabin to pursue a lead and their lives are changed forever.

Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yadda, yadda

* * *

Chapter 2 – Rude Awakening

McGee drew in a deep breath and immediately sat up, blinking at the sudden brightness and grimacing at the strange coppery taste in his mouth. The burning pain in his chest forced a groan from his throat, and he barely had enough time to wonder _why_ he had been flat on his back just moments before when he heard a scream.

His attention snapped to the source of the sound and he saw Ziva standing a few yards away with her gun drawn and pointed directly at him.

"Ziva?" he asked, startled by the terrified expression on her face. He quickly scanned the area, trying to find what could have possibly frightened the unflappable Mossad officer, but they were alone. When he returned his attention to Ziva he saw that her fearful expression had been replaced by one of wary confusion.

"Ziva?" he asked again. "What happened?" Following her gaze he looked down at his chest and froze; momentarily unable to comprehend what he was seeing.

"Is this…is this blood?" He then noticed three dark rimmed holes in his shirt, and felt a surge of anxiety when he realized what they had to be. He tried to remain calm, to rationalize, but his efforts were in vain as a full blown panic attack overwhelmed him and the edges of his vision started to darken.

_It's not that bad…it's not that bad… it can't be that bad, the pain is gone and I'm still-_

Suddenly he felt a strong hand grip his shoulder, bringing his mind back into focus. Ziva was crouched by his side, her intense gaze focused on him. She reached out with her other hand and placed two fingers against his neck, checking his pulse. Without hesitation she pulled open his shirt and at the sight of his chest she sat back on her heels with a startled gasp, her eyes widening in shock.

"This is impossible," she whispered.

"W-what?"

McGee looked back down at his chest and instead of the expected bullet wounds he saw that the skin was unmarred. He struggled to find an explanation, but nothing made sense.

_Unless…no, she wouldn't…would she?_

"Is this some sort of a …joke? OW!" He cried in protest when Ziva reached up and smacked the back of his head.

"Do you really think I would attempt such a thing, McGee?" she asked as she pointed to his chest. "You were shot! There were three bullet holes, and…" She drew in a deep breath. "You were dead."

"Dead? Are…are you sure?"

"I have seen death before, McGee. I know what it looks like."

McGee fought back the hysteria-induced urge to ask if Death really rode a big white horse named Binky. He bit his lip and shook his head, trying to maintain his tenuous grip on reality. Before his mind could form a coherent question, he noticed Ziva reach into her pocket and remove her camera. She clicked through several frames before handing the camera to him.

"Look."

McGee peered at the image on the small screen. It clearly showed, in close up, three very obvious bullet wounds surrounded by blood-soaked fabric. He advanced to the next image, a wider view of the wounds, where the buttons and collar of the shirt were visible. The next image caused him to gasp: it was an even wider view, now showing the face and wide, dead eyes of the body, features he recognized as his own.

"Now do you believe me?" Ziva asked in a shaky voice.

He continued to stare at the image, denial still screaming in his head. He struggled to respond.

"I…this…this doesn't make sense. How could this happen?"

"I really have no idea. What do you remember?"

"Uh…not much. We split up to search outside the cabin…after that everything is a blank. Until I woke up. What happened before that?"

Ziva briefly closed her eyes and sighed. "I was searching the north side of the cabin when I heard the shots. When I returned to the front of the cabin I saw a man with a gun. He put the gun away and pulled out a long knife…no not a knife, a _sword_."

"A _sword_? What in the hell-?"

"I do not know. I yelled at him and he ran off. I fired several shots, and I am quite sure I hit him, but that did not deter him from making an escape. He had a vehicle hidden close by. After I realized he was gone, I made my way back to the cabin and…found you. Like that." She indicated the picture. "And then I had to do my job." McGee nodded. He now understood why she had taken the pictures.

"How long was I…out?"

"Nearly two hours. I had done all I could here and was getting ready to leave, to go find cell reception. And then you…came back."

McGee still couldn't accept that he had been dead. The idea flew in the face of everything he knew, everything he understood. He tried to find some _logical_ explanation for what had happened and finally hit upon an idea.

"Maybe this was all a trick." He noticed a flash of anger in Ziva's eyes and raised his hand in a placating gesture. "No, not by you. The man you saw. Maybe he did this as…as a distraction. He…I don't know, maybe he dosed me with some sort of drug that just made me appear to be dead. Then he set up the rest of this to keep you occupied so he could get as far away as possible."

"That does not make sense-."

"It makes more sense than 'I died and came back to life'!"

"Yes, but it does not explain the disappearing bullet holes."

McGee slumped in defeat. She had a point. They sat in uncomfortable silence for several minutes; neither of them was really sure how to proceed. Finally, Ziva spoke.

"We should head back. It is getting late and…it has been a very long day." She stood and offered him her hand. With Ziva's help, he struggled to his feet, swaying a little as he adjusted to the change in position. She looked up at him with concern in her dark eyes.

"Are you sure you are all right? Maybe we should get you to a hospital-."

"I'm fine. Just give me a minute." He took a few deep breaths. "I'm good. Let's go." He turned to head for the car and Ziva gasped in surprise. He paused, almost afraid to ask.

"What's wrong?"

"Your back. There's a…large hole in your shirt. And blood." McGee felt a light touch at the middle of his back just to the left of his spine. "But there is no wound."

McGee sighed. _Impossible_ seemed redundant at this point.

"Can this day get any w-weirder?"

"It has been my experience that it is unwise to ever ask such a question."

McGee let out a mirthless chuckle. "Yeah, I know what you mean. So what now?"

"Now, we do the job we were sent here to do: we find Doran Keane. Let's go."

McGee followed Ziva, fighting a wave of dizziness as he started the trek down the hill towards the spot where the sedan was parked. By the time he reached the car, Ziva had retrieved her backpack from the rear seat. She pulled out a bandana and a bottle of water just as McGee was reaching for the passenger door handle.

"Wait." She reached into the car and pulled out McGee's jacket. "You might want to…"

"Oh. Right." He pulled off his battered and stained shirt before reaching for his jacket with a distinct feeling of embarrassment. Ziva placed the jacket on the hood of the car and joined him on the passenger side. She handed him the bottle of water and he took a swig of the contents, gagging at the strong taste that filled his mouth. He spat out the liquid, now tinged dark red, and recoiled in disgust. He glanced at Ziva, wondering how she would react, but she merely took the water bottle from him and pointed to the hood of the sedan.

"Sit."

McGee gingerly lowered himself to a half-sitting, half leaning position against the side of the car as Ziva poured water on the bandana and then started to wipe his face. To his questioning expression, she responded, "You cannot go anywhere like that. You're looking very…Night of the Living Dead." McGee groaned.

"You've been spending too much time around Tony," he muttered.

"Possibly." She paused and took a step back. "Maybe…" McGee immediately understood her train of thought and huffed in annoyance.

"I'm _not_ a zombie, Ziva."

"Are you sure?" she asked, resuming her work. "No overwhelming desire to eat me?"

Startled, McGee searched her expression for a hint of acknowledgement of the double entendre and caught her subtle smirk.

"Very funny…"

She did not reply and continued the clean his face and neck with the bandana, but McGee saw some of the tension between them drain away and he felt a twinge of remorse.

"I'm sorry…"

"Never apologize. It's a sign of—."

"Weakness." He managed a smile which soon faded. "What are we going to tell-?"

"Gibbs? Nothing."

"You're seriously suggesting we try to keep this a secret?"

Ziva sighed. "Right now we do no even know what really happened. All we have are questions. Gibbs wants answers. Until we have something to tell him, something that makes sense, we should keep this to ourselves. At best, we have been fooled by and lost a potential witness. At worst, Gibbs will think-."

"We've lost out minds."

"Yes. Neither scenario will make Gibbs happy, that is for certain. So, until we do have some answers…"

"Rule number four?"

"Yes."

McGee nodded. Keeping this to themselves was the best course of action. Besides, there was no way Gibbs would understand or believe the current version of the events of this particular trip.

_

* * *

The woods surrounding the cabin were silent. McGee scanned the area as he made his way through the clearing, but there was no sign of movement, no evidence that their quarry had made his escape in this direction. Maybe they had missed something back in the cabin? He was fairly sure there was no way the man had made it out of the cabin and eluded them, not in the time he had to do so. Maybe he should go back and check the cabin again? The idea of a trap door, a hidden compartment sounded like something out of an Agatha Christie novel, but it was the only explanation McGee could find. _

_With a sigh, he turned to head back and was met with the sight of man pointing a gun at him. Before he had a chance to completely draw his weapon from its holster the man fired. The sound of the shots registered before the pain hit, a sudden burning surge of agony in his chest and back. He felt the strength dissolve from his body and he fell to the ground, unable to stop his descent. The jarring crash as his back hit the ground sent a spasm through his chest and he coughed, sending a fresh wave of pain through his body as spatters of warm liquid exited his mouth and landed on his face. He struggled to draw in a breath but his shattered chest would not cooperate, and the sensation of drowning overtook him completely. As he struggled to hang on to life, to fight off the enveloping blackness, he heard the man speak for the first time in a cold, taunting voice…_

"_You have no idea what you are, do you?"_

* * *

McGee awoke with a jolt, gasping in welcoming breaths as a cry of protest died in his throat. His flailing arm caught the door handle, bringing him back to reality, and he warily took in his surroundings. The sedan was pulled over onto the side of a highway and Ziva was staring at him from the driver's seat. The car shook slightly as a large tractor trailer flew past and the motion caused McGee's stomach to clench. Without a word, he pushed open the passenger door and stumbled out, traversing a few feet of highway shoulder before collapsing to his knees and emptying the contents of his stomach on the brittle grass. The sensation immediately brought back the memory of the taste of his own blood and he gagged again, continuing until nothing was left but a dry cottony layer in his mouth. He remained on his knees with his head hanging down, motionless until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you-?"

"No. Not really."

"Nightmare?"

"Yes…no. Memory. I remembered what happened back at the cabin." He looked up at Ziva. "I remember getting shot. I remember…dying. But that doesn't-."

"We will figure it out, McGee." She helped him to his feet. "We are almost home now. We can start working on it tomorrow. Come on." She led him back to the car and helped him into the passenger's seat before returning to the driver's seat and refastening her seat belt. She pulled the sedan back onto the highway and drove on in silence. After several minutes she spoke.

"Do you remember anything else?"

"Uh, no, not really."

"McGee, you are lying to me. Why?"

"It's crazy."

"And the rest of this day has not been 'crazy'? Just tell me."

"I, uh, well…the man who shot me. He said something before I blacked out. But it doesn't make any sense."

"What did he say?"

"He said: 'you have no idea what you are, do you?'"

"'_What_ you are'? So…he targeted you specifically. Why?"

"_I don't_ _know_! Like I said, it doesn't make any sense. I mean, any 'what' I might be, I already know: NCIS agent, computer specialist, writer…it's just...nonsense."

"Maybe it _is_ something else; the _what_. The reason why you are not dead now."

"So, I'm some sort of…_thing_?"

"Perhaps. I…" She paused and a strange expression crossed her face. "I have heard of something like this before."

"Seriously? When?"

"From my grandmother. A story told to her by _her_ grandmother, passed down through generations. It was about a man in the village who was killed by…what is the word? Bandits. He was stabbed through the heart. His family was preparing him for burial when he revived. At first, everyone thought it was, well, a miracle I guess."

"But you don't believe in miracles."

"No. As I said: at first. But then, his family, his friends, the rest of the people in the village aged and grew old as you would expect, but he did not. His wife bore him no children, and it seemed he suffered no sickness or injury. The people soon decided that he was cursed and banished him. He left the village and was never heard from again, although through the years people claimed to see him pass through once a generation."

"Cheerful story," muttered McGee.

"Yes. I always thought it was just a folk tale, a story to remind us, how do you put it? Not to judge first appearances."

"Which it probably was, Ziva. I mean, come on? Curses? There's no such thing."

"So you say, just as it is impossible for a dead man to come back to life. And I know you will say that there is a logical explanation, too, but so far we have not found one."

"We will." _We have to._

Ziva lapsed into silence for the remainder of the drive, not speaking again until they were outside McGee's apartment building.

"I need to take the car back to NCIS, but then I will come back to check on you."

"You don't need to do that Ziva. Really, I'm…well, as good as can be expected."

"Fine. I will pick you up tomorrow at 0600 so we can start working on the case." She handed him his shirt in a plastic bag. "Make sure you find a safe way of disposing of that." She then handed him the SD card from her camera. "And these pictures as well."

"Got it. Ziva…thank you. I'm…thanks."

"Until tomorrow."

She drove off with a slight screech of tires and he watched the sedan until it disappeared into the distance before making his way up to his apartment. Once inside, he tossed the bag into the hall closet, not wanting to even think about it, and carried the SD card to his computer and sat down. He had decided not to destroy the pictures, believing that they would somehow shed some light onto this whole mystery. He pulled all the images off the card onto his desktop and "scrubbed" the card, completely deleting the incriminating photos. He then saved his copies onto a CD, adding several layers of encryption as he went, before completely deleting the files from his hard drive.

"Better safe than sorry…"

After a hot shower to wash away the remnants of dirt and blood that Ziva had missed, he dressed for bed and took one last look in the mirror, searching for something, some clue that might tell him why he was still breathing. Finding nothing obvious, he went to his room, lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. He tried to shut down and relax, but the strange words of the shooter continued to echo through his mind. It was several hours before he slipped into shallow, restless slumber.

* * *

A/N: I decided that McGee is a fan of _Discworld_ (where Death rides a horse named Binky). I couldn't help myself.

Rule number four (paraphrased): If you have a secret, keep it to yourself. If you can't, tell one other person. There is no third option.

Consider this story to be set sometime in early season 5.

And yes, you've guessed it, it's a _Highlander_ crossover. Just so you know, no one else who works for NCIS is immortal. Still, it's hard to get anything past Gibbs ;)


	3. Chapter 3 Unpleasant Surprises

Thank you all who have shown interest in this story. I'm sorry it took so long to update.

A very special thank you to my beta, **StrangeVisitor**, for all her help with this story. I really appreciate it!

* * *

Title: Dead Reckonings

Story: NCIS crossover with _Highlander, the Series_

Chapter 3 of ?

Rating: T/ PG (gen)

Set in early season 5

Characters- 3rd chapter: Ziva, McGee, DiNozzo, Gibbs, Ducky, Abby and OMCs

Pairings: none

Beta: StrangeVisitor

Summary: Two NCIS team members travel to an isolated cabin to pursue a lead and their lives are changed forever.

Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yadda, yadda

* * *

Chapter 3 – Unpleasant Surprises

_*BANG* *BANG* *BANG*_

McGee bolted upright in bed, his heart hammering in his chest. The remnants of the nightmare still clouded his mind. Looking down he expected to see the wounds he could still almost feel, but his grey T-shirt was dampened by sweat, not blood.

_*BANG* *BANG* *BANG*_

_Wait a minute…that's-._ He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 6:01 AM. _Aw, crap…_

He stumbled out of bed out into the hallway towards the apartment door. Just before he reached it, he heard a scuffling sound followed by a yelp. He opened the door and was met with a strange sight: a man that he recognized as his neighbor was pinned against the opposite wall by Ziva, who was holding a knife to the man's throat. His terrified eyes turned toward McGee and he sputtered "Dude, cops! NOW!"

"Ziva," said McGee, "let him go." Her stance relaxed slightly but she remained in place.

"This man assaulted me. I was defending myself."

"Defending yourself!" the man shouted, his gaze flicking to Ziva before returning to McGee. "I caught her trying to break into your apartment. Crazy bitch—." He immediately fell silent as Ziva pressed the knife closer.

"It's okay, we, uh…we work together." His neighbor gave him an incredulous look. McGee shrugged sheepishly.

"I don't even want to know, man. Now can you…can you call her off?" He flinched as Ziva leaned in close and glared at him. She remained in place for several moments before releasing her grip on the man and stepping back. He slumped in obvious relief before backing down the hallway away from them. When he reached his apartment he darted inside and slammed the door.

"I cannot believe he called me a 'crazy bitch'," muttered Ziva as she slipped her knife into her belt and stepped into the apartment. McGee decided to let that one slide as he followed her inside and shut the door.

"Were you really trying to break into my apartment?"

"Yes. When you did not answer my knock, I was concerned." She took in his appearance. "What happened?"

"I, uh, overslept."

"You do not look like you slept very much at all. More nightmares?"

"Same one," he confessed. "I just keep seeing-."

"Perhaps if we find out what really happened, it will help," she replied in a gentle voice, before switching to a more authoritative tone. "Which _means_ we need to get to work, so you need to go get ready. Five minutes, McGee. Go."

"Ziva, I-."

"Go!"

McGee hurried to the bathroom and showered as quickly as possible. After drying off and getting mostly dressed, he checked his face in the mirror to see if he could get away without shaving. One look told him he wouldn't be so lucky. He smoothed on a layer of shaving cream before applying the razor to his face, drawing it down his cheeks and neck as fast as he dared. He had almost finished when he felt the sharp sting of the razor cutting into his flesh and to his dismay blood started to well up from the cut almost immediately.

"Damn it," he muttered as he reached for a tissue. He wiped away the blood, but before he could put pressure on the cut, a small arc of blue lightning crossed the gap and the wound healed before his eyes.

"What in the hell?" he gasped and ran his fingers over the area where the cut had been. He stared into the mirror, waiting for the wound to reappear. He was sure the healing had been his imagination, but his skin remained whole, and cold chill settled in his stomach.

_What's happening to me?_

"_McGee!_" Ziva called from the kitchen. "_Hurry up!"_ Startled, McGee wiped the remnants of the cream from his face, pulled on his dress shirt and after one final look, he hurried to join Ziva.

* * *

Ziva guided her car to a stop at the light and glanced at her passenger. He had been unusually quiet for the duration of the ride and his silence raised her concern.

"McGee," she said, startling him. "What is wrong?"

"I, uh…nothing."

"You are lying to me again. What is it? Has something else happened?" She allowed some of her worry to show. She had not completely recovered from the panic she had felt earlier while breaking into his apartment, unsure what she would find once inside.

"I, uh…I think I've started to…hallucinate."

"Hallucinate? Why?" She turned to face him just before the blare of horns behind her indicated the light had changed. She guided the car forward before returning her attention to McGee.

"I cut…I _thought_ I cut myself shaving, but…"

"But what?"

"It healed. I _saw_ it heal, and there was this, I don't know, static discharge, like blue lightning, over the cut as it closed up." He glanced up at her, embarrassment clear in his expression. "Crazy, huh?"

Ziva stared at him, speechless, before returning her attention to the road. Her mind raced, wondering what could account for what McGee had seen. As she approached another red light she decided to test a theory that had arisen in her mind.

"Give me your hand," she said as soon as she brought the car to a halt. McGee reluctantly complied as she removed her knife from her belt and quickly jabbed one of his fingers.

"OW! What the hell-?"

"Look," she said as she pulled out a tissue and wiped away the blood. A flash of blue crossed the wound as it closed. McGee stared at his finger, shock and horror crossing his face before he met Ziva's gaze.

"I…"

"Well, one thing is for certain: you were not hallucinating."

McGee let out a strangled laugh. "That doesn't really make me feel any better."

A blast of a horn behind then indicated the light had changed again, and she returned her attention to her driving. She heard McGee mutter "suffer no injury" and looked over to see him inspecting his finger tip as if he expected something else to happen. She tried to think of something to which he could relate as an explanation for what they had seen.

"Maybe it is a…mutation. Something has changed to speed up the healing process."

"Great," he growled. "Either I'm cursed, or I'm one of the X-men." He looked over at her and blushed. "I'm sorry, Ziva. I…I know you're trying to help, and I'm-."

"Being snitchy?" She was rewarded with the first genuine, albeit weak, smile she had seen from him since yesterday. "Do not worry about it."

He lapsed into silence again and did not speak again until they had reached the gate to the Navy Yard.

"You know," McGee said softly, "a lot of myths and legends are based on facts. So maybe there is some…medical reason for all of this? I mean, _I've_ never heard of anything like this, but maybe…"

"Ducky has?"

McGee nodded. "So now I just have to figure out how to ask him about it without making him suspicious."

"Tell him it is research. You know, for your next book."

"I'll have to be careful not to let Tony hear that. He told me he'd kill me if I ever thought about writing another book…which is probably the least of my problems at the moment."

* * *

McGee was relieved to find the bullpen empty when he and Ziva exited the elevator. He really wasn't ready to deal with DiNozzo just yet. After checking his email, he started his report on the trip to Keane's cabin, struggling with the words as he typed up a highly edited version of events. He had almost finished when DiNozzo interrupted him.

"Morning, Probie! How was your trip to the Boondocks?"

"Uneventful," replied Ziva before McGee could respond. "The man was not at home, and it did not look like he would be returning any time soon. It appears that Corley sent us on a wild duck chase."

"_Goose _chase, Ziva. And that's too bad. While you two were taking in the fall foliage, _we_ were getting some real work done."

He started to pull information up on the plasma, and Ziva and McGee walked over to stand in front of the screen so they could see what he had discovered. The first picture was of their suspect. "Abby thought the bomb construction looked too professional to fit Corley's story, so she did some checking and found that it fit the design of some IRA bombs. We ran Corley's prints through Interpol and this is what popped up." A much younger image of their suspect filled the screen. "Corley's real name is Cormac Flynn, a former member of the Irish Republican Army, and one of their top bomb makers. After the cease fire, he managed to drop off the radar, only to pop back up here almost ten years later."

"And we're going to find out why this bastard decided to kill a Marine," declared Gibbs as he strode into the bullpen. "Ziva, you go down to autopsy to see if Ducky has anything to add to the report, McGee—."

"I can go get the information from Ducky, Boss." He fidgeted slightly when all three of his teammates turned to stare at him. "That is, uh, if Ziva doesn't mind. I…need to ask Ducky…something, so I figured I could do both and save a trip."

Gibbs stared at him for a minute and McGee barely managed to remain calm under that intense gaze. "Well, what are you waiting for, McGee? Go." He ignored DiNozzo's questioning expression and hurried away as Gibbs barked orders to Ziva and Tony. He only managed to relax slightly as the elevators doors closed behind him.

As he entered the autopsy suite, he was greeted by a cheerful voice.

"Timothy! This is an unexpected pleasure. What brings you down here so bright and early?"

Swallowing his nervousness, McGee managed to sound much calmer than he felt. "Gibbs needs any additional information on the bombing case that you can give him, Ducky. They're bringing the suspect back in for further interrogation."

"I see. Well, I regret to admit that I have not yet found anything germane to that case, but I will let Jethro know as soon as I do have something. Is there anything else?"

"Uh, yes, I…I'm doing, well some research, and-."

"For another book?" asked Ducky, sounding slightly bemused.

"Well, yes, but not in the same series," McGee rushed to add.

Ducky chuckled. "Very well, Timothy. What do you need to know?"

"I was wondering if there would be some…legitimate medical condition where someone would…appear dead but not actually be dead?"

Ducky stared at the younger man, obviously surprised. He pondered a moment before giving an answer.

"Well, if the person in question were exposed to cold for a long enough period of time their body would start to shut down to preserve vital functions, such as in the case we had a few months ago: the young man found in the snow bank, do you remember?"

"I do, but what if the body, er, person was not exposed to cold? Could there be another reason, a specific reason, why someone would…revive? Even if they really looked dead?"

"Nothing _specific_ comes to mind…" Suddenly, Ducky gave McGee a wicked grin. "Unless, of course, you're referring to _zombiis_."

"I'm not-." McGee managed to stop himself before he blurted out a statement that really would have Ducky questioning his sanity. "I'm not talking about something supernatural, Ducky."

"Neither am I, my dear boy. _Zombiis_, or at least the kind to which I am referring, are quite real. The term 'zombii' is associated with the practice of voodoo, particularly in Haiti. Practitioners believe that a voodoo priest, or _bokor_, has the ability to place evil doers in a state of utter limbo, where they are stripped of their humanity. The most famous documented case of a real zombii was Clairvius Narcisse, who was reported dead and buried in 1962 and was found alive in 1980. He claimed to have been under the power of the bokor for years until his death released the bokor's zombiis from their enslavement."

McGee attempted to interrupt, but Ducky was clearly on a roll and he decided to let the eccentric medical examiner continue his tale.

"There have been several studies on the phenomenon which have led to claims that a living person _can_ be turned into a zombii by the introduction of two special powders into the bloodstream, usually through a wound. The first, _coup de poudre_, is believed to include a toxin very similar to tetrodotoxin, a powerful and frequently fatal neurotoxin found in the flesh of the pufferfish. This poison lowers the victim's metabolic rate until they appear dead. The second powder consists of natural hallucinogens such as _datura, _also known as the 'zombie cucumber'. The effect is described as an initial state of death-like suspended animation followed by re-awakening. The 'zombii', poor soul, although appearing to be deceased, would be fully aware of what was happening to them, and would often be awake for their own internment."

"_Don't bury me, I'm not dead!"_

McGee spun around to see Tony grinning at him expectantly. He had been so focused on Ducky's story that he hadn't even heard the senior agent approach.

When McGee didn't respond to his quote, an annoyed and disappointed look crossed the older agent's face. "_The Serpent and the Rainbow_…? Starred Bill Pullman, directed by Wes Craven? No?"

McGee shook his head, worrying more about what Tony had heard than his lame movie reference.

Tony sighed. "Pullman's character was an anthropologist investigating zombies in Haiti. Cool flick. It was based on a true story, actually—."

"It was a dreadful film," countered Ducky, "so much so that the author of the book, worried about what his association with the film would do for his reputation and publicly debated leaving the country."

"Something you two might want to consider if you don't get up to interrogation right _now_," declared Gibbs as he strode into Autopsy.

"Sorry, Boss," managed McGee, and was echoed by DiNozzo. "Ducky said he didn't have anything to add."

"And it took this long to figure it out?"

Unable to meet Gibbs' glare, McGee turned and quickly stumbled towards the elevator, DiNozzo on his heels.

* * *

After they had left, Gibbs turned to his friend with a smirk. "_Zombiis_, Duck?"

The older man chuckled. "I was merely answering young Timothy's query, Jethro. He claims it is research. Perhaps you should ask _him_ why he has such a sudden interest in the risen dead."

Gibbs shook his head and headed for the elevator, not allowing the small twinge of worry he felt to show on his face. _Maybe I should…_

* * *

Tony followed McGee into the observation room, grinning at Probie's discomfort to his stream of commentary. Once inside, Ziva's glare silenced him as all three turned to stare at the interrogation room occupant. The man, slumped in his chair, looked more like someone's grandfather than a hardened criminal. His bright blue eyes held a worried and confused expression, but Tony was not fooled. He had read the file, and the death toll the man had racked up belied his innocent befuddlement. Flynn obviously knew the jig was up and his game face was firmly in place.

"DiNozzo," growled Gibbs as he entered the observation room, "you're up."

"On it, Boss," he said as he sent McGee a smug grin and left the room. The grin was gone by the time he entered interrogation and sat opposite Flynn. The man noticed his stern expression and appeared to wilt.

"Look, man-."

"Special Agent DiNozzo."

"Special Agent DiNozzo, I already told you all I know." The man's flat Midwestern accent was good, Tony had to give him that.

DiNozzo allowed a slow unfriendly grin to spread across his face. "I don't think so Corley…or should I just call you Flynn. As in Cormac Flynn, former bomber for the IRA. Ah, that's right. The luck o' the Irish has jus' run out," he intoned in his best, but still bad, Irish accent.

Suddenly the man's demeanor changed, and he glared at DiNozzo with obvious disgust before letting out a humorless chuckle. "Don' do that, lad, 'tis cruel and unusual punishment," he replied in his natural Ulster brogue. "_Go n-ithe an cat thú is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat._"

"_Póg mo thóin_," said DiNozzo with a smirk and the other man snorted.

"I don' think yer bosses would approve o' such language, boy."

"I don't think they care. What they do care about is the Marine you murdered and the barracks you destroyed with one of your bombs, just like you did back in Britain a decade ago. What's a matter? The cease-fire not sitting well with ya?"

"Bunch o' bloody cowards," muttered Flynn.

"Oh, that's good, coming from a guy who used to blow up innocent civilians. Now tell me: why McCready?"

"Why don't ye ask Keane?"

"Well, you see, we tried. We sent two agents out to his place, and—."

"An' how many o' them came back alive?" asked Flynn, his grin sending a chill down DiNozzo's spine.

"Both of them," growled DiNozzo. "What do you mean-?"

"Ah, Doran must not have been at home. Or they weren't some of his 'special people'. It seems yer people were the lucky ones this time, Agent DiNozzo."

"Wait…you knew the brother was dangerous and you sent our team after him?"

"I don' believe I was the one that actually sent them, now was I?" The man snickered at the brief flash of guilt that crossed DiNozzo's face before he could stop it. "Brother…ye don't get it…"

"So explain it to me."

"'Doran', 'Lorcan', Keane. They're one in the same. Different names to fit the situation, although 'Lorcan' really fits him better. He is one cruel bastard."

"And you're afraid of him," DiNozzo guessed, working hard to keep a lid on his anger by taunting the older man. "Is that why you sent us after him?"

"Nah. I figured if I sent ye on the trail o' a serial killer, ye'd forget about little ol' me."

Aware that the interview was quickly spiraling out of control, DiNozzo tried to reign it back in.

"Yeah, right, your partner just happens to be a serial murderer and you're willing to hand him over to us? I don't think so, Flynn. Now, why McCready?"

Flynn chuckled. "Bastard's family were a bunch o' traitors to the cause. It's as good a reason as any." He tilted his head. "He apparently wasn't Keane's 'type', though. He didn't finish the job."

"Lance Corporal McCready was shot three times and blown up. What else would Keane need to do to 'finish'?"

"Cut off his head."

DiNozzo froze for a moment, not sure he had heard correctly. He glanced at Flynn, whose smug smile told him he knew exactly what kind of impact he had made with that statement. The agent turned towards observation, expecting Gibbs to stop the interview of to provide some sort of cue on how to proceed, but the observers were silent. Finally he turned back to Flynn.

"Maybe you better tell me more about this Keane."

"Met him fairly soon after I arrived in this country. I wasn't expectin' to find another native speaker in the area, an' we hit it off. It went fine for awhile, 'til I found out about his hobby."

"And you never said anything?"

"Keane is a right scary bastard. Self-preservation, lad. 'Sides, he said he had a good reason for it…an' I know what it's like to have a cause."

DiNozzo leaned in close to Flynn. "Your 'cause' kills innocent people. Now why was Keane killing?"

"He never said, just that it was necessary to rid the world o' a sickness."

"And how did he determine who was part of this 'sickness'?"

"No idea. Never made any sense to me, how he'd pick 'em. He'd just see one and he'd know."

"How many?"

"No idea, lad. He was at work long before he an' I met. He didn't kill those 'special people' very often, that I can tell ye. He was real picky with his targets."

"And McCready wasn't a target?"

"Not to Keane. He was real specific in his methods: three shots to the chest, then decapitation. Yer man still has his head attached, right?"

DiNozzo let the comment slide. He had a much more important question. "So, if you believe his kills are righteous, why give him up now?" He saw Flynn shift slightly in his chair and moved in for the kill. "You think you're safe from him, in custody, and you want to get rid of him. So much for your belief in his 'cause'." DiNozzo turned to the window. "I think we're done here." He then returned his attention to Flynn and bent down to speak directly to him in a low voice. "You are damn lucky neither of our agents were his 'type', 'cause if they were, not even federal custody would save your sorry ass." He turned and left the room without a backward glance.

When DiNozzo entered the observation room, he was surprised that no one turned to greet him. Gibbs' focus was on Ziva and McGee. Ziva looked distinctly shaken, something DiNozzo had not expected to ever see, and McGee was white as a sheet.

"You okay, Ziva? Probie?" He turned to Gibbs, hoping for some feedback on both the interview and his co-workers, but the lead agent remained silent and his expression was unreadable.

"We are fine," said Ziva.

McGee glanced at her before responding himself. "Yeah…fine."

DiNozzo was about to call him on the obvious lie but was interrupted by Gibbs.

"DiNozzo, make sure our guest makes it out of here without incident. Ziva, check police reports for Keane's M.O. McGee…" The younger agent turned a wary eye towards his boss. "Find Keane. Doran, Lorcan, whatever the hell his name is, I want you to track him down."

"O-on it, Boss."

"I wanna know if we can charge this guy with something else, before Interpol takes custody of him. Now go!"

The team quickly left to follow Gibbs' orders.

* * *

McGee barely made it back to his desk before his knees finally buckled and he dropped into his chair. Everything that Flynn had said about Keane kept repeating in his mind, and he was barely able to keep himself together.

"McGee…"

He flinched slightly and looked up to see Ziva leaning over him. The worry on her face was evident.

"I…"

"Do not tell me that you are 'okay'. I know that you are not," she whispered. "But we must work through this. We need to find this bastard before he can hurt someone else."

"But you heard what Flynn said, Ziva. Keane is trying to get rid of a 'sickness'. What if I—?"

"There is _nothing_ wrong with you, McGee. _Never_ think that! Do you understand?"

After a few moments, he slowly nodded.

"Good. Now let us get to work, before Gibbs gets even more suspicious."

"You don't think he-."

"How could he? But he is going know something is wrong if you do not pull yourself together."

"Ziva, I …okay."

She glanced around before reaching out and gently patting his cheek. He gave her a weak smile and turned his attention to his computer. Ziva went back to her desk and after one last glance at McGee, she went to work.

* * *

Several hours and multiple phone calls later Ziva looked up from her notes and was surprised to see that it was getting dark outside. She glanced over at McGee and was less surprised to see that he had fallen asleep upright in his chair. She started to rise to go wake him when Tony arrived and noticed the sleeping agent. He grinned and headed towards McGee's desk.

"Leave him alone, Tony."

DiNozzo turned and gave her a questioning look. "Why the sudden concern for the Probie?"

"He was…ill on the way home yesterday and I do not think he has yet recovered."

"Oh yeah? How 'ill'?"

"He…threw his crackers all over the side of the road."

"'Tossed his cookies', Ziva. And that's not something he hasn't done before. Besides, it will be worse if Gibbs' catches him."

"Catches who doing what?" asked Abby as she walked into the bullpen.

"McGee, McNapping," smirked Tony.

Abby chuckled. "Yeah, the Boss-man will skin him alive. C'mon Timmy, rise and shine." She started toward McGee. Neither Tony nor Abby had noticed that McGee had started to twitch, but Ziva recognized the tell-tale signs of McGee's nightmares.

"Abby, wait…" She moved to intercept the other woman but Abby had already reached McGee and started to lean over him. "Tim-."

At that moment, McGee awoke with a gasp, lashing out at the same time against the vision from his nightmare. His fist caught Abby in the chest, knocking her backwards and caused her to stumble and fall, hitting the ground with a thump. She let out a startled yelp, which pulled McGee back to reality and he sprang to his feet.

"Wha-?" His gazed darted around in panic before landing on the woman on the floor. "A-abby? What happen-?"

"What the Hell is a matter with you, McGee!" Abby yelled, rubbing the spot on her chest where his fist had connected. Ziva inwardly winced in sympathy for both of them.

"Oh, God, Abby, I'm so sor-."

"_McGee_!" Gibbs' voice cut through the commotion. "My office, _now_!"

After one terrified glance at Ziva, McGee turned and stumbled toward the elevator. Gibbs stopped to help Abby to her feet, ordered her to go see Ducky, and disappeared into the elevator as the metal doors slid shut behind him.

"What the _hell_ was that all about?" asked DiNozzo, finally breaking his silence.

Ziva glanced at Tony and shook her head before slowly returning to her desk, her mind on what would be taking place behind those doors.

* * *

_Oh God, I am so dead…_

McGee stood with his back against the wall and waited for the inevitable. Gibbs had not said a word when he entered the elevator and had turned his back on McGee for the short descent.

_I can't believe I did that. I hurt Abby! He's going to kill me…_

When Gibbs flipped the switch, McGee braced himself for the onslaught, but Gibbs remained silent. Finally, he turned to face the junior agent and McGee was barely able to hide his shock. He had expected rage, disgust, or at the very least disappointment, but if he had to define Gibbs' expression he would had said the lead agent looked…_sad_.

"Something you want to tell me, McGee?" asked Gibbs in a low voice.

"I, uh…I don't even know where to start," McGee admitted, wary eyes locked on Gibbs' face.

"How about you start with what just happened."

"Boss, you know I would never intentionally hurt Abby-."

"Yeah, I know, McGee. So tell me what happened."

"It was…a nightmare. I, uh, didn't get much sleep last night and I guess I dozed off at my desk and-."

"You have nightmares like that a lot, McGee?"

"No! No, Boss. Just since…well…"

"Yesterday. When you got…sick?"

Unable to trust his voice at the moment, McGee just nodded.

"Are you still sick, McGee?"

"I don't know…"

Gibbs stared at him for what felt like eternity but was truly only a couple of moments. Finally he reached and flipped the switch to send the elevator back up to the bull pen.

"Go home, McGee."

McGee felt as if the floor had opened beneath him.

"Boss, I…"

"I need you at a hundred percent and right now you're not. So go home, get some real sleep, and come back tomorrow. When you're _better_. Understood?"

"Y-yes, Boss," stammered McGee, almost sinking in relief. Suddenly he felt a chill in the pit of his stomach. "But what about-?"

"I'll deal with Abby. Get Ziva to take you home."

* * *

When the doors opened, Gibbs stepped out into the bullpen and saw his other two team members look up at him apprehensively.

"Ziva, Tony, go home."

"But Boss…"

"It's not open for debate, DiNozzo. Go home. I'll see _everyone_ back here tomorrow morning at 0700. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Boss, but what about—." Tony caught Gibbs' glare. "-never mind." After one more puzzled look at Ziva, DiNozzo grabbed his things and headed for the stairs.

McGee gave Gibbs a wide berth as he went to his desk to grab his bag and headed back towards the elevator.

Gibbs leaned closer to Ziva. "Keep an eye on him, Ziva. Don't let him out of your sight. Do you understand?"

She took in his expression and a puzzled look crossed her face before she slowly nodded. "Yes, I understand." She grabbed her bag and followed McGee.

After they all left, Gibbs sank into his chair with a sigh. He had learned over the years to listen to his gut, but right now he really hated what it was telling him. He knew he had a problem, and not just a bruised and indignant forensic scientist. Until this most recent incident, however, he had not been certain which agent he needed to be concerned about.

He needed to go check on Abby, to settle things as best he could, but right now he had something more pressing. After rubbing a rough hand over his face he pulled out his cell phone and made the call he had been avoiding since the interrogation of Flynn. Finally, after four rings, the other line picked up.

"_Yeah?"_

"Hey, it's Gibbs."

"_Jethro! Long time no talk! How have you been?"_

Gibbs chuckled at the enthusiastic voice on the other end.

"Never a dull moment."

"_Yeah, I hear ya. So, what's the occasion? Not like you just to call to chat."_

"Yeah, I know. Listen, you know I wouldn't normally ask, but I need…I need a favor…"

* * *

A/N: For this story, I thought it would be interesting to see how a normal, rational person would deal with the weirdness of becoming Immortal, especially when he did not have another Immortal to explain everything right away. For those of you who are unfamiliar with _Highlander_, you'll get a more "official" explanation in the next chapter.

Translations: _Go n-ithe an cat thú is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat._ – May a cat eat you and the Devil eat the cat (just a silly little Irish curse I found); _Póg mo thóin_ – kiss my ass, a little bit of pub slang commonly picked up by non-Irish speakers.

All the stuff on zombies was pulled from various sources. The case described is real, and was the basis for Wade Davis' book, _The Serpent and the Rainbow_, which was later the inspiration for a movie of the same name.

**So, what do you think? Reviews are appreciated, as always.**


	4. Chapter 4 Strange Revelations

Story: NCIS crossover

Chapter 4 of ?

Rating: T/PG (gen)

Set in early season 5

Characters- 4th chapter: Ziva, McGee, Gibbs, DiNozzo, Abby, Jenny; 2 characters from _Highlander: the Series_

Pairings: none

Beta: StrangeVisitor

Summary: Two NCIS team members travel to an isolated cabin to pursue a lead and their lives are changed forever.

Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yadda, yadda

* * *

Chapter 4 – Strange Revelations

McGee and Ziva rode the elevator up to the bullpen in silence. He was still feeling a little awkward about what had happened the previous evening and had avoided discussing it during the ride in to work. Yesterday, Ziva had insisted that he spend the night at her apartment so she could keep an eye on him claiming it was Gibbs' orders. He had reluctantly agreed. He _did_ have to admit that he definitely felt better after a full night's sleep, but recent events still worried him.

"What exactly was in that tea you gave me last night, Ziva?" he asked in a low voice as the stepped off the elevator.

"Nothing that will cause you trouble in a random drug screening," she replied with a slight smirk. "Besides, you needed the rest."

"Maybe so, but I'd rather know how I wound up…well, you know."

"Wound up where, Probie?" asked Tony as came up behind them and followed them into the bullpen.

"Never mind."

"Not at your apartment. I stopped by and you were nowhere to be found. Your neighbor said you left with some 'crazy chick'."

"That would be me," replied Ziva. "I did not think McGee should be alone, at least until he has recovered."

"Oh, ho," laughed Tony. "I never took you for the Florence Nightingale type, Ziva."

"Who?"

"Never mind. So, Probie, you're looking better. I guess you managed a good night's sleep on Ziva's sofa."

"Who said he slept on the sofa?"

McGee could feel his ears start to burn.

"Well, then I guess _you_ managed a good night's sleep on the sofa," Tony smirked.

"Who said _I_ slept on the sofa?"

McGee deposited his bag at his desk before heading back to the elevator, muttering something about needing to talk to Abby. As the doors closed, the last thing he heard was Ziva's annoyed voice: "Well, at least he doesn't _snore!_"

He leaned against the back wall and sighed. It was going to be a _really_ long day.

XXX

McGee cautiously entered Abby's lab, worried about her reaction to his behavior the day before.

"Abby?" he called from just inside the door, as he braced himself for her wrath. She looked up at him and simply stared at him in silence.

_OK, that's different…_

"McGee," she finally said, her tone revealing nothing.

"Abby, I'm so sorry about what happened last night. I was…you know I'd never intentionally hurt you, right? It was a complete accident."

"Yeah, I know. Gibbs told me about your nightmare."

"He did? Oh, right…so then…are you okay?"

"Fine."

"You don't sound fine…you're still mad at me, aren't you? Abby, really, I never meant to hit you, you know that-."

"I'm not mad about that."

"Oh…then what…?"

"I'm mad because something happened to you that upset you enough to _cause_ that nightmare, and _you_ couldn't be bothered to confide in _me_. I thought we were _friends_, McGee. Friends are supposed to _help_ each other! Why didn't you tell me what happened? What _did_ happen, McGee?"

"I…I'm sorry, Abby. I really am…"

"But?"

"But I can't tell you..." _Because I don't understand it myself._

She stared at him, anger and hurt flashing across her face before her expression shut down.

"Fine." She turned her back on him. "I have a lot of work to do, McGee."

"Oh…OK. I…I really am sorry, Abby, for…for everything."

She didn't respond, so he turned and slowly left the lab, wondering what else could go wrong.

XXX

"Ah, Dead Man Walking is still walking. Our Goth Princess must have been feeling forgiving this morning," snarked Tony as McGee returned to his desk and sat down dejectedly.

"Not exactly," muttered McGee and booted up his computer. He caught Ziva's worried expression and just shook his head.

"I guess you'd better work on your apology a little more."

"Or maybe you both need to work on our case," Gibbs said as he entered the bullpen.

"Sorry, Boss."

Gibbs stopped in front of McGee's desk and looked down at him. "Well?"

"I, uh…" McGee avoided Gibbs' gaze and quickly pulled up his notes from the day before. "I couldn't find any employment, prison, education, or other government records for either Doran or Lorcan Keane. The only record I did find was the tax collected for that piece of property we found under Doran Keane's name. I called the local County Clerk's office to get information on how those taxes were actually paid and I'm hoping they kept information on the bank that issued the payment. None of their records are online, so I'm waiting for a call back."

"DiNozzo."

"Corley, er, Flynn is scheduled to be handed over to the FBI within 24 hours to await extradition. No other bombings with his M.O. have been reported since he arrived in this country."

"David."

They all turned to look at her when she did not immediately respond.

"Ziva?"

"Yes, sorry. I have found six unsolved homicides in the tri-state area in the last ten years with a similar M.O. Five men and one woman, all shot three times in the chest and then decapitated. In two cases, the…heads were not recovered, and they remain unidentified. The gun used was not the same in any of the cases, however, which is why they were not linked before."

"DiNozzo, arrange another interrogation with Flynn. I want to know everything he can tell us about those murders. Let's find this bastard."

"On it, Boss," said Tony as he picked up his phone.

"Ziva, go back further, see if you can find any more murders that fit the M.O."

"But Gibbs…" She stopped and McGee understood why. The man they had seen did not look old enough to have been killing for much longer than the time frame she had already checked.

"Is there a problem, Officer David?"

"No, Gibbs. I will get started."

"McGee."

"Boss?"

"Keep looking."

"On it."

Gibbs was about to return to his own desk when Jenny called to him from the upper level.

"Agent Gibbs, we have a meeting in MTAC."

"When?"

"Now."

Gibbs headed up the stairs with an annoyed expression on his face as his team turned to their tasks. When the coast was clear, Tony got up and walked over to McGee's desk to stare down at the younger man. After a few moments of scrutiny, McGee huffed in annoyance.

"What?"

"So, Probie, do you want to tell me what's going on?"

"With what?"

"You. Ziva. Abby. All of the above."

"No." McGee ignored the older man and continued with his search. Before Tony could say something else, McGee's desk phone rang. He quickly answered it, glad for the reprieve.

"Agent McGee." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tony return to his desk and breathed a small sigh of relief.

"_This is Marjorie Hasker from the Clay County Clerk's Office. Is this the young man who called me yesterday, from…NIS?"_ The voice on the other end had a slight rural accent, and sounded older than he had expected.

"NCIS, ma'am, and yes. Thank you for returning my call."

"_How may I help you?"_

"I need some information from your property tax records, specifically for the piece of property owned by a Mr. Doran Keane." He spelled the name, and was met with silence. "Ma'am?"

"_It's not…it's not a Mister, Agent McGee."_

"I'm sorry?"

"_Doran Keane…well, I guess it's a business. The same name has been on that property for a long time, and…there has never been a record of sale or inheritance."_

"How long?"

"_Well…as long as there's been a Clay County. It was one of the first properties listed in the original register."_

"And how long is that?"

"_The County was established in 1737, so…two hundred and seventy years."_

Startled, McGee took a moment to continue his questions. "So…the property has been under the same name for that whole time?"

"_That's what I said. It's kind of a local mystery, actually. Nobody has ever seen the owner. There's a post office box attached to it, but no one ever sees who gets the mail. The tax payments come through the mail, too, and always right on time."_

McGee remembered why he had called. "Those payments: do you keep a copy of the checks?"

"_We do, but they're bank checks, not from an account. Always different, too."_ He heard a faint chuckle. _"Some people think the property is really owned by the mafia, and that's why nothing can be traced. The mafia wasn't around back in 1737, now was it? And the property has always been kind of anonymous, ya know?"_

"And no one has thought to…question this?"

"_Not really. No one bothers us, we are pretty forgiving."_

"Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"_Well…it's about the property itself, just local history."_

"What is it?"

"_Story goes that just before the closest town was established, that piece of property was the site of the county's first unsolved murder."_

"Murder?" he blurted out before he could help himself and saw Tony turn to stare at him in surprise. He managed to calm his voice before he asked the next question. "What happened?"

"_One of the traders passing through found the body of a man up on that mountain. No one knew who he was, and the local Indians, uh Native Americans had their own legends about that area and would never go near it, so it wasn't them who'd done it. Pretty nasty killin', too."_

"How so?"

"_The man had been shot in the chest, three times, and then…his head was cut off."_

"You…you're serious?"

"_Yep. They never found anyone who they could tie to it. People stayed away from that place for years. Even today, most people avoid it. Guess they's scared of 'haints'." _She chuckled again.

"I…I see. Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"_Nothing comes to mind. Did that help at all, Agent McGee?"_

"I'll have to get back to you on that. If…you do think of anything else, please, give me a call."

"_Will do. Nice talking to you, Agent McGee."_

"Uh, thank you. Ms. Hasker, and thank you again for…calling me back."

"_No problem. Bye now."_

"Good-bye."

McGee hung up the phone and sat in silence, going over what she had said in his mind. Like so many things he had experienced lately, none of it made sense. After a few moments, and as he ignored Tony's questioning stare, he turned to his computer to start another search.

Suddenly he felt the strangest sensation, just behind his eyes, similar to the beginnings of a migraine. It quickly morphed into a hum, almost like stereo feedback but at a lower pitch. As it grew in intensity, McGee reached up and rubbed his temples, trying to relieve the discomfort.

"Headache, Probie?" asked Tony from his desk.

"Yeah, something like that." McGee had the sense that something, the source of the sensation, was approaching. He looked around, trying to identify its location, just as the elevator arrived at their floor. Suddenly he knew that whatever this strange feeling was, it was coming from within the elevator, and his focus locked on the metal doors as they slid open.

A woman stepped out and paused to look around. She was fairly tall, slender, and attractive, probably in her early 30's, with dark eyes and stylishly short black hair. Her gaze locked on McGee and with a smile she started to walk towards him. He could only stare in return as he realized the sensation he felt was coming from this woman and it was accompanied by the strong urge to escape. Before he could move, however, the woman's path was blocked by DiNozzo.

"Hello," he said, and McGee could picture the predatory grin he most likely wore as he turned on the charm. "I'm Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. How may I help you, Miss…?"

"Darieux," she replied in a sultry voice. "Amanda Darieux. I'm here to see Special Agent Gibbs."

"He's in a meeting with the director," said Tony, and McGee could hear the faint disappointment in his voice. "May I ask why you need to see him?"

She deftly stepped around Tony and continued towards the center of the bullpen before stopping almost in front of McGee's desk. She met his gaze again, briefly, before returning her attention to the senior agent.

"I'm an …old friend. I was in town and thought I'd stop by. How long do you expect this meeting to take?"

"I'm not really sure, but why don't you have a seat while you wait?" Tony pointed to his own seat with a toothy smile. The woman gave him a smile of her own before settling into the proffered chair. She once again glanced at McGee and then returned her attention to Tony.

"You must be part of Gibbs team," she said coyly.

"Yes, I'm his trusted senior field agent."

"And what about _you_," she asked as she turned to McGee. He felt himself blush as he started to answer.

"I-I'm Special Agent Timothy McGee-."

"The _junior_ field agent," added Tony in a slightly mocking tone, "and resident computer geek. And this," he pointed to Ziva as she rounded the corner of the bullpen and stopped to stare at the newcomer, "is Officer Ziva David, our Mossad liaison."

Ziva continued to stare at the woman as she rose and extended her hand. Finally Ziva nodded in return and went to her own desk, her expression unreadable.

Tony quickly broke the awkward silence.

"So tell me, Ms. Darieux, how do you know Gibbs?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?"

Tony turned and looked up towards the stairs just in time to see Gibbs start his descent and scrambled to recover.

"Oh, uh, Boss, I was just asking-."

"Amanda," said Gibbs, and McGee saw a brief flash of surprise cross the lead agent's face before one side of his mouth curved up in a half smile. "This is unexpected."

"Jethro," she purred as she rose and made her way towards the stairs where she waited for him to reach the bottom. "It's been a while, I know, but I was in town and I couldn't resist. I thought perhaps we could do…lunch?"

Gibbs glanced at his watch. "A little early…"

"Coffee, then? We really have some catching up to do."

"I can do coffee," Gibbs replied. McGee was fairly sure his boss was not all that thrilled with the prospect, but he was not immediately sure why.

"Wonderful! Shall we?" she linked her arm with Gibbs' and started to walk with him toward the elevator. She looked over her shoulder at the team. "Nice to meet all of you," she said before she and Gibbs disappeared from view.

Tony watched them as the doors closed and then turned to the rest of the team. "Did that seem weird to any of you?" he asked.

"Well, she is not a redhead, if that is what you mean," replied Ziva.

McGee remained silent as the sensation he had felt started to fade and he continued to stare at the elevator. Tony walked over to him, leaned down, and said, "Forget it, Probie. She's way out of your league." He smirked at Ziva and returned to his desk as McGee managed to return his gaze to his computer screen, although the strangeness of what he had felt stayed with him for a long time.

XXX

The elevator had almost reached the ground level before Gibbs flipped the emergency switch and turned to his companion. She smiled at him and reached up to brush a strand of his hair back into place.

"We really must find you a better barber, Jethro. This look is just so old-fashioned."

He continued to stare at her in silence and she sighed. "You don't look all that happy to see me, Gibbs. I'm hurt."

Finally he spoke. "I wasn't expecting Dawson to send _you_."

"Well, I was available. MacLeod is off on some sort of spiritual retreat, and Joe had no idea when he'd be back, and God only knows _where_ Adam is, so-."

"Just tell me, Amanda."

She sighed. "You were right. The kid is a member of 'the club'."

Gibbs shook his head. "Damn…I was hoping I was wrong."

"So what do you want to do now? He'll have to be told, and he'll need-."

"Yeah, I know. You up to this?"

"Of course, Jethro. Well, at least to get him started." Gibbs shot her a look. "Hey, I'm just being honest here. I'm not the type to stay in one place for a long time, you know that, but I'll make sure he has someone more permanent when it's time for me to move on."

He simply stared at her until she sighed and continued.

"Look, Joe will be here tonight. He wanted to be there when we tell the 'newbie'. It's not too often he gets to meet one of us at the very beginning, you know. In the meantime, I'll need to do a little reconnaissance, but that shouldn't take too long. Where do you want to meet for the big reveal?"

"My place. 2100. I'll make sure they're both there."

"Both?"

"Yeah. I imagine Joe will want to talk to Ziva."

"Oh…of course. Now, how about that coffee? We really _do_ need to do some catching up, Jethro."

Gibbs stared at her for a moment and managed a smirk. "Yeah, OK." He flipped the emergency switch and the elevator carried them to the ground level.

As he and Amanda headed for his favorite coffee shop, he thought about what this unexpected turn of events would mean for his agent, and what he would need to do to make sure it wasn't a complete disaster.

XXX

At 2000 hours, Gibbs ordered them all to go home. It had been a long and trying day, and Ziva was quite ready to follow such orders, especially since Gibbs had not mentioned coming in on the weekend.

She and Tony had interrogated Flynn again and had gotten nowhere with the man. He denied any involvement in the unsolved murders, but did confirm that it was Keane who had committed them, and that he, Flynn, had been unable to prevent the crimes. The only satisfaction she had obtained from the interrogation was when Flynn confessed that he found her much scarier than Keane.

She gathered up her belongings and waited for McGee to join her for the ride home. He insisted he would be fine at his own place, but she had seen that something still worried him. She suspected that it was in part due to his discussion with Abby, as the forensic scientist completely ignored him when she had entered the bullpen to speak to Gibbs about the evidence in the case. However, she had sensed a growing tension in the junior agent ever since that woman, Amanda, had shown up. Tony had teased McGee mercilessly about his apparent interest in the woman until Gibbs had returned and stopped him with a resounding head-slap. McGee had looked somewhat relieved, but she had noticed his tension return fairly quickly. She decided to wait until after work to confront him about it.

As soon as they left the Yard, she asked, "What's wrong?"

"What isn't?"

"Is it Abby?"

"She's still mad at me, if that's what you mean."

Ziva huffed in annoyance. "I will speak with her."

"No, Ziva, please don't. It will only make it worse. She's mad because I can't tell her what happened, and if she finds out that you know something…"

"She will take it out on you." He nodded sadly. "There is something else bothering you."

"When…when that woman who came to visit Gibbs showed up…well, before she even got off the elevator, I…I knew she was coming."

"You did? How?"

"I could…sense it." He described the sensation he had felt. "It was like…I don't know, an early warning system."

"But why-"

"I think she's like me."

"You mean…all the things that have happened to you since—."

"Keane shot me, yeah, and I think…I think he's like me, too, and he could tell, and that's why he wanted to kill me."

"But…why would he want to kill someone like himself?"

"I don't know…"

"And why wouldn't you have felt that warning with him?"

"I don't know that, either."

He lapsed into silence and did not speak again until they were on the Beltway, headed towards Silver Spring.

"There's something else."

Ziva was rather surprised that he had volunteered information, but she kept her voice even.

"What?"

"The place where…we saw Keane, it was…when I spoke to the county clerk, she told me that property was the site of the county's first murder. The M.O. was the same as Keane's."

"I did not find that in my search. When did it occur?"

"1737."

"They know the exact time?"

"The _year_ 1737. Two hundred and seventy years ago."

"But that is—."

"Crazy. Yeah, I know. The clerk also told me the property had been listed under the same name for that long. Maybe this M.O. is an old family tradition or something."

"Or our killer is at least 300 years old," she said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood a little. This case was just so strange…

McGee barely managed a chuckle. "Yeah, _that_ makes sense. You know, I think it would be easier if someone would just tell me I had lost my mind. Then I could start to deal with it, at least."

Ziva's response was cut short by the strident sounds of her ring tone. She fished out her phone and answered.

"Ziva. Gibbs? Yes…yes…I understand. We will be there soon." She hung up and guided her car towards the exit lane.

"What's going on?"

"Gibbs needs to see both of as at once."

"Great. So much for a quiet weekend." He leaned back and closed his eyes as Ziva guided the car to the south-bound side of the Beltway.

XXX

McGee did not open his eyes again until Ziva had brought the car to a stop. When he saw where they were, he turned to her in obvious surprise.

"Why are we at Gibbs' house?"

"This is where he asked to meet. He did not say why." Ziva climbed out of the car and headed for the front door as McGee reluctantly followed. She raised her hand to knock just as the door swung open and Gibbs appeared.

"You made good time." He turned and walked back towards the interior of the house. Ziva glanced at McGee, shrugged, and followed Gibbs. McGee followed her and shut the door behind them. She had expected Gibbs to head for the basement, but instead he stepped into the living room before turning to them.

"Have a seat. Can I get you a drink?"

"No, thank you," she said, confusion coloring her voice. McGee just shook his head and carefully lowered himself onto one end of the sofa. She sat down next to him and looked up at Gibbs. When he didn't say anything, she asked, "Are we waiting for Tony?"

"Not exactly."

Before she could ask what Gibbs meant, she noticed McGee stiffen and sit up straighter, his eyes widening in surprise as he reached up, hesitantly, to rub his temples.

"McGee? Are you all right?" she asked in concern.

"I…" He looked up at Gibbs. "Boss, are…are you expecting company?"

To her surprise, Gibbs just smirked and walked back to the front door. He opened it and said loudly, "You're a little early."

"Better than late," a faint female voice answered, surprisingly familiar.

Soon the source of the voice appeared: it was the woman who had visited NCIS earlier that day. She was followed by a much older man who walked with the aid of a cane. Ziva noticed that McGee had risen to his feet and she did the same as Gibbs made the introductions.

"Ziva, McGee, I believe you've already met Amanda." The woman smiled as they both nodded rather stiffly. "And this is Joseph Dawson."

"Call me Joe," he said and held out his hand. McGee hesitated and then offered his own.

"Nice to meet you," he said, although he didn't sound particularly happy. Ziva merely nodded and turned to Gibbs.

"What is going on?"

"I take it you haven't done the preliminaries," said Joe as he gingerly lowered himself into one of the chairs.

"You're early," replied Gibbs, before turning to Ziva. "Have a seat. This is going to take awhile." She and McGee sat down again as Amanda settled into the last chair. Gibbs remained standing.

"Boss, what is this about?"

"McGee, Ziva, I need you two to tell me what happened when you went to interview Keane two days ago."

"It's in my report, Boss."

"Mine as well, Gibbs."

"I need to know what _really_ happened. Everything."

"Boss, I…I really don't think you would…"

"Believe us," finished Ziva. "We are not so sure we believe it ourselves."

Gibbs exchanged glanced with the other two people in the room. "I'll believe what you tell me, as long as you don't leave anything out. Got it?"

"Yes, Gibbs." She looked at McGee. "I will start."

She began with their arrival at the cabin, then the search and evidence that Keane had been there recently but was not home when they arrived. She described their decision to search the grounds and how they had split up.

"I was searching the north side of the property when I heard gunshots. I ran towards them and saw a man with his gun drawn, pointing it towards something I could not see. He put it away and…pulled out a knife."

"A knife?"

"All right, it was a sword." She looked up at Gibbs, expecting disbelief, but his expression was unreadable. "I yelled at him to freeze, and he ran towards the woods. I chased him, but apparently he had an ATV hidden and he escaped. I went back to the cabin and I found…it looked like McGee had been shot."

"How bad did it look, Ziva?"

"He…he looked dead." Gibbs remained silent, so she continued. "There was no way to call for help, and…I did not believe there was anything I could do, except to make sure that everything was documented before I left to call. I took pictures, and searched for evidence, but…I did not find very much."

"How long did it take to finish the search?"

"Almost two hours."

"Then what?"

"I…I was getting ready to leave I heard a noise. I turned around, expecting that the man had returned, and…McGee was awake and sitting up. He…he did not remember what happened. I checked him and…the bullet holes were gone."

"We decided it had to be some sort of a trick, Boss, and we…were a little, well, more than a little embarrassed that we had been fooled and let the witness, uh, Keane escape. We've been trying to figure out how he did it-"

"What do you remember before this 'trick'?"

"W-what do you mean?"

"It's a simple question, McGee. What were you doing up until Keane incapacitated you?"

"Oh. I, uh, I was searching the south side of the cabin, didn't find anything, and I was wondering if maybe there was a hidden trap door or something we didn't see before, even though we looked for one. I turned to head back to the cabin and…"

"And what?"

"I saw a man pointing a gun at me. Before I could completely draw my weapon, he…incapacitated me."

"You mean he shot you."

"Well, that's what it seemed like, but, you know, obviously—."

"He shot you. Three times in the chest."

"How did you-?"

"It's his M.O., McGee. Three shots to the chest, and then…he was going to cut your head off. Does that sound about right, Ziva?"

"Yes, but-."

"And I'm going to guess that ever since, strange things have been happening to McGee."

Ziva and McGee looked at each other in surprise and slowly nodded.

"You knew I was coming before you saw me, right?" asked Amanda, breaking her silence. McGee turned to her, wide-eyed, and nodded. "And you heal pretty fast now, right?"

McGee nodded again and turned to Gibbs. "Boss, what…what happened…what's happening to me?"

"Keane killed you, McGee, and that started it."

"Started what?"

"Your immortality," said Amanda.

"My _what?_"

"You are an Immortal."

Ziva finally managed to speak. "You cannot be serious!"

Joe answered. "It's true. Immortals are a race of people, special people, who, if they die a violent death, come back and cannot be killed by normal means. They heal, and they do not age."

"And you are saying…McGee, _our_ McGee, is one of these special people?"

"Yes."

"Is it…a hereditary thing? Are my parents…? Could…my sister…?" McGee looked back and forth between Gibbs and Joe. Ziva could see the panic in his eyes.

"We don't know where Immortals come from," said Joe. "You didn't get this directly from your parents, since Immortals cannot have children. You also don't need to worry about your sister."

"How can you be sure? If you don't _know_, then-."

"Because, even if it is genetic, you are not related," said Amanda.

"_What_? How do you-?"

"We have never found an Immortal who was not a foundling or who knew their birth parents. Since you grew up with a family, you were adopted." Joe gave McGee a sad smile, obviously unaware of the devastation he had just caused.

McGee stared at Joe, then Amanda, in silence. Finally he rose from the sofa.

"Excuse me," he said in an eerily calm voice, and walked out the door. Amanda shot Gibbs a look and followed McGee. Ziva rose to follow Amanda and was gently restrained by Gibbs.

"Let her deal with this, Ziva. Trust me, she has a _lot_ more experience with this sort of thing."

"How could you do this to him, Gibbs?"

"I didn't do it, Ziva. I'm just trying to make sure he can survive what comes next, and these people are here to help."

She turned to Joe. "Amanda said McGee could sense _her_, but she did not mention you. Are you…an Immortal as well?"

Joe chuckled. "No. I am a Watcher, part of a secret society that knows the truth about Immortals. We've been observing and recording their lives for centuries." He showed her the strange tattoo on his wrist. "This is how we know each other, and how some Immortals know us as well."

"You are here to observe McGee?"

"Actually, he's here to talk to you, Ziva," said Gibbs with a faint smile.

"Me? Why?" She turned back to Joe. He grinned.

"I believe I have a job for you."

* * *

A/N: A 'haint' is a colloquial term for ghost (corruption of 'haunt') used in the Appalachian region.

Please let me know what you think.


	5. Chapter 5 First Lessons

**Dead Reckonings**

Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yadda, yadda. There are a couple of lines in this chapter from the Highlander season five episode _Dramatic License_. No infringement intended.

As the title suggests, lots of exposition in this chapter.

For Sergeant Conley, since he finally got his computer fixed;)

* * *

Chapter 5 – First Lessons

Tim McGee had both heard and read the phrase "his mind reeled" many times, but he had honestly never been able to apply that description to himself. Until now.

"…_Keane killed you, McGee, and that started it."_

"_Started what?"_

"_Your immortality…"_

He had barely managed to hold himself together long enough to leave the group of people who had just told him the impossible. Once outside, he felt the strong desire to run, to escape the insanity that had invaded his life.

_Immortal? **Me**? No, this is a dream, a very, very weird dream… It has to be…I can't…_

Suddenly he felt that strange sensation, a feeling that he now knew signaled the approach of the woman, Amanda. He turned and saw her walking towards him, a sympathetic expression on her face. He felt a surge of anger and the idea that somehow, this was all _her_ fault arose within him.

"Leave me alone!" he barked and headed toward the driveway before he remembered that Ziva had driven him here. He couldn't leave.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Tim," she replied in a soft voice. "You're sort of my responsibility now. At least for a while."

Surprised, he turned to face her. "Why?"

"Because you're going to need a teacher."

"A teacher? For _what?_"

"How to survive."

McGee scoffed. "_Survive_? You told me I'm-."

"Yes, but there are things you need to know, and frankly I'd rather not give you the '101' in Gibbs' front yard." She stepped up to him and gently took him by the arm. "Come on, let's take a walk. I saw the perfect place to have this little chat on the way here."

Reluctantly, McGee allowed himself to be guided down the driveway and once they reached the sidewalk Amanda turned and pointed to their destination, its tallest point just visible above the trees.

"A church?"

"Holy Ground. We'll be safe there."

"Safe from what?"

"People like Doran Keane."

McGee stumbled slightly as more memories from the past few days surfaced.

"…_you have no idea what you are, do you?"_

"…_shot in the chest, three times, and then…his head was cut off."_

"…_three shots to the chest, and then…he was going to cut your head off."_

"He…he was going to…"

"Yes."

"But _why?"_

She patted his arm. "I'll explain everything once we get where we're going. Trust me." She noticed his expression and sighed. "OK, you don't trust me. You _do_ trust Gibbs, though. Right?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation. She smiled.

"And Gibbs trusts _me_ to take care of _you_. OK?"

"O…OK."

They started walking again, and it occurred to McGee that under normal circumstances, he would be enjoying himself: a cool autumn night, walking through a nice section of town, with a beautiful woman on his arm. The reasons for his situation, however, still weighed heavily on his mind and he shook his head. There was nothing normal about his life now.

Finally they reached the church, an old but impressive brick and timber building with a towering spire and beautiful stained-glass windows flanking the entrance. McGee briefly wondered if this was where Gibbs attended services before Amanda opened the door and led him inside. They entered the main area and made their way towards the altar, finally settling in one of the pews a few rows from the front. After checking to make sure they were alone, Amanda turned to face him. She studied him for a moment and smiled ruefully.

"Sorry, it's been awhile since I had to do this and the last time…didn't go well. OK, first thing you need to know. We can die, but only by—"

"Decapitation?"

"Yes. The man who caused your 'first death' wanted to make it permanent."

"But why would he want to kill me?"

Amanda sighed. "He shouldn't have killed you in the first place. We're not supposed to interfere with pre-Immortals."

Suddenly at least _something_ that McGee had wondered about in the past few days made sense. "So you _can_ tell if someone is going to become Immortal, even if they haven't…been activated yet?"

"Yes, just like we sense each other now. It's not as strong, but the feeling is there if we do encounter a pre-Immortal. There's no guarantee that person will become Immortal, though; only if they die violently. Poison or disease won't do it."

McGee thought back to the other cases he and Ziva had uncovered. "So all of those other murders with the same M.O.… and the 'special people' Flynn mentioned, Keane was killing pre-Immortals?"

Amanda considered his question. "Or possibly those who were already Immortal, but since no one seems to know about him, that's unlikely."

"I still don't understand why he would want to kill people…like him."

"It's the Game. Most Immortals believe that the last one of us left alive will have the power of all the others, and through killing other Immortals they gain their power. It's called the Quickening, that transfer of power from one to the other. When two Immortals who are in the Game meet, they fight to the death."

McGee felt his stomach do a slow roll and he fought to control the rising nausea. "How?"

"With swords. Immortals learn to fight to survive, and that's a big part of what I'm going to need to teach you."

"But I…I _failed_ fencing! I'll never be able to fight like that!" McGee tried to quell his rising panic and Amanda placed her hands over his own, a gesture that offered little comfort to the terrified man.

"The fencing you were probably taught is nothing like what we do. You _will_ be able to learn to defend yourself when necessary…or take the offensive."

McGee leaped to his feet. "No! I don't want any part of this…this _Game_. I don't want to kill anyone." He started to leave but Amanda caught his arm and held him in place.

"I know you don't, and there are plenty of us who would rather not, but since there are also plenty who are actively seeking out others to kill, you need to learn to protect yourself." She turned him to face her and studied him again. "It's like your job now. You use deadly force when you must, right?"

He winced, remembering the unfortunate times when he had been forced to fire on someone, with devastating results. "But I hate it."

"Good. You're not supposed to like it. But you do know that sometimes…"

"Sometimes I have no choice."

"Exactly."

He sank back into his seat. "And I have no choice now… I have to learn how to fight. I can't avoid it."

"No. Not unless you wanted to spend eternity on Holy Ground." Her eyes flashed in anger. "And even then you may not be safe."

"But I thought you said—"

"_Immortals _will not kill on Holy Ground. Mortals still will. And you can't feel _them_ coming."

McGee suddenly remembered the man that had been with Amanda. "How many…_mortals_ know about us? Gibbs, and Joe…and now Ziva, they all know. How many more?"

"Not too many. We are very careful about who we tell, and as for most of those who have found out on their own or from others, they will not interfere. They just…watch."

One of Gibbs' rules came to his mind: _always watch the watchers_. The irony of that rule almost made him chuckle. People would be watching him now, people who knew that he…wasn't normal. _He wasn't normal_. How would the others see him now? His teammates? His family…? Suddenly another memory flashed through his mind.

"…_we have never found an Immortal who was not a foundling or who knew their birth parents. Since you grew up with a family, you were adopted."_

The significance of that phrased slammed into him again and he barely managed to voice that fact of his new reality. "I'm… I'm adopted."

The sudden change of gears didn't seem to phase Amanda in the least. "Yes."

A sense of betrayal overwhelmed him. "My parents… they _lied_ to me! Why didn't they tell me?"

"I can't answer that, Tim. Maybe they thought it was best. I'm sure they have no idea where you came from and wanted to save you the pain of wondering about your birth parents. Or maybe they did want to tell you and the opportunity never presented itself. Sometimes we _do_ lie to protect the ones we love."

McGee absorbed the information Amanda had given him, wondering if this was why his father had acted the way he had. He knew his mother and grandmother Penny had loved him, treated him like a true member of the family, but…

"My father… I was never good enough for him. Do you think…?"

"I don't know, Tim. I'm Immortal, not omniscient." She grinned. "None of us are, no matter how long we've been around."

"How long have you… Sorry, that's probably not something I should ask, is it?"

Amanda chuckled. "I know it's considered rude to ask a woman her age, but in this case I can make an exception. I don't know exactly what year I was born, but I died the first time in 850. A.D., that is."

McGee almost choked, sure he had misheard her. "1850?"

"No, _8_50. Middle ages, Medieval times, whatever you want to call it. It wasn't that great, believe me."

"How did you…die?"

"I was whacked over the head by a member of the town watch for stealing a loaf of bread." She seemed very matter-of-fact about it, but McGee was horrified.

"I'm sorry…"

She patted his cheek. "Not your fault, Tim. Best thing that happened, believe me. If I hadn't, my teacher wouldn't have found me, and I would have probably starved to death instead."

"Your teacher?"

Sadness clouded Amanda's expression and she took a few moments to respond. "Rebecca. She was…she was a true lady. She took me in, taught me how to survive…and to be better. I was an illiterate thief, I'd never known any other way to be, and she taught me…so much. Not just about the Game, but how to believe in myself." She swiped at an errant tear that had started to slip down her cheek and put on a bright, fake smile. "I'm sure I'll have a lot easier time teaching you, right?"

"I'm not so sure of that." He wanted to ask her more about Rebecca, but his years as an investigator had taught him when to know when a subject was best left alone. "I've never been much of a fighter, and I really don't know if I could fight…to the death."

"Hopefully you won't have to find out any time soon, but in the meantime, we have a lot of work to do. Come on, let's get you home."

McGee mentally slapped himself. "Oh God, I completely forgot about Ziva. She's probably wondering-"

"It's OK, I'm sure she's had her own stuff to worry about…"

XXX

Ziva stared at the man who called himself a Watcher, unsure if she was ready to accept all that he had told her.

"You want me to…_spy_ on McGee?"

Joe chuckled. "Not spy, exactly. Just observe what he does, with whom he interacts, mortal and Immortal, and keep a record of it."

"Mortal _and_ Immortal? How will I tell the difference?"

"By observing McGee," Gibbs answered with a smirk.

"You saw how he reacted to Amanda. Until he gets more used to it, he'll have a hard time hiding that response," Joe explained.

"And if one of these Immortals…" She struggled to remember the right word. "…challenges him? What then?"

Joe sighed. "We can't interfere. It's part of the Watcher code, and has been that way for centuries." He shook his head and gave a rueful chuckle. "Although I'll admit, I've always had a bit of trouble with that part myself."

"But McGee is my partner. My _friend._ I cannot just stand by and watch him be killed!"

"Hopefully you won't have to. There aren't all that many Immortals left, and a lot of them aren't out looking for a fight." Joe sighed. "Just pray McGee doesn't run into any of the ones who are, at least until he's ready to deal with them."

"I do not like this. What if one of these Immortals, like Keane for instance, does not fight fair? What then?"

Joe glanced at Gibbs, who nodded. "There are rules for a reason, Ziva. If someone breaks them, well…" He simply shrugged, but Ziva had known him long enough to read what had not been said.

"Understood. Now what?"

"Now you let Amanda take care of him and his training. I must admit, it will be interesting to have a record of an Immortal's training from the beginning. We don't have many of those," said Joe.

"And at work?"

"Nothing's changed, Ziva. If it's not related to McGee being Immortal, they don't need to know, and if it's not related to work, no one at NCIS needs to know what either one of you are doing," Gibbs replied.

"And no one else at NCIS knows…?"

"No. Rule number four, remember?"

"I do."

"Good. Alright Joe, I think that's enough for now."

"One more thing," Ziva said. "I cannot get one of those tattoos. My faith forbids it."

"Don't worry, we'll work something out." Joe said as he stood and held out his hand, which, after a brief hesitation, Ziva shook. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Ziva, and I look forward to working with you on this."

"It was a pleasure to meet you, too," she said, although her expression belied that sentiment. She released Joe's hand and turned to Gibbs. "I should go find McGee and take him home." Gibbs shook his head.

"Amanda will take care of him, Ziva. Trust me. Now go home, get some rest."

"I…I will try, Gibbs."

He kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, Ziva."

"_Shalom,_" said Joe, and she couldn't help the small smile that crossed her face.

"_Shalom._"

She slowly walked out the door and down the steps, pausing to glance back before she made her way to her car. She was tempted to go and look for McGee anyway, but Gibbs' orders were clear. Someone else was responsible for him now.

She really was not sure how she felt about that.

XXX

McGee opened his eyes and blinked several times. A beam of sunlight had breached the blinds on his bedroom window and was shining directly in his face. He turned his head to remove himself from its path and came face to face with his current bedmate. He bit back a yelp of surprise and sat up, suddenly aware of the strange sensation that hadn't left him since last night, which he now knew was due to the person next to him.

He managed a weak chuckle as he watched Amanda sleep. _Second morning in a row I've woken up with a woman in bed with me. DiNozzo would be proud_, he thought with a grin, which quickly faded. _And I can't even tell him, not any of this._ He sighed and carefully climbed out of bed so as not to disturb Amanda and made his way to the bathroom. After taking care of necessities, he stopped and stared at himself in the mirror. He could detect no change in the face reflected there: nothing to indicate his new status, his new reality.

The grumbling in his stomach reminded him of his all too human needs and he headed toward the kitchen, snagging a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt from his closet along the way. He pulled on his clothes and walked into the kitchen where he opened the refrigerator, sighing as he viewed the lack of contents within.

_Guess I better go shopping…_

He slipped his shoes onto his feet, grabbed his keys and jacket, and headed out. There was a coffee shop a few blocks from his apartment, and he could pick up something for the both of them.

_So, what does a nearly 1200 year old woman eat for breakfast?_ He chuckled at the ridiculousness of the question, something he had never, _ever_ expected to consider. _I hope she likes donuts and coffee._

On the way to the shop he passed an open space dotted with carefully placed stone markers. The significance of the area, and the fact that he very well could have been residing there now suddenly hit him and he began to shake. He stumbled through the gate of the cemetery and managed to find a nearby bench before he collapsed. He stared out at the expanse of carefully groomed grass and well cared-for monuments, wondering how his friends and family would have reacted…if he had been mortal.

Eventually he became aware of the presence of another person and turned to find a familiar face watching him.

"Boss! What…what are you doing here?"

Gibbs just smirked and handed him a cup of coffee. "You looked like you needed that."

McGee accepted the cup and took a sip, amazed that Gibbs, someone who only took his coffee black, had managed to get the balance of milk and sugar exactly right.

"Thanks."

The men sat in silence, each enjoying their coffee. McGee wondered what had prompted Gibb' visit, but before he could ask, the older man broke his silence.

"How are you holding up?"

Surprised by the question, McGee voiced what had brought him to the cemetery in the first place.

"I'm still trying to deal with the fact that I…died."

Gibbs chuckled. "Yeah, I guess that would take some getting used to. You will, though. You have time."

Time. Something of which he now had in excess, unlike anyone else on the team. A fact that made him even more of a freak, and maybe more of a liability that before.

"Boss? Do you…If you want, I can have my letter of resignation on your desk by—OW!" He rubbed his head. "What was that for?"

"Like I told Ziva, nothing's changed. You're still my agent…just with a longer shelf life."

McGee let out a surprised bark of laughter. "Never thought of it that way…"

"That's a pretty good sign that everything's still the same, McGee. Just don't die in public, though. I don't think even _I_ can explain that one away."

"Got it, Boss."

"And don't die, period. Which reminds me." He reached up and slapped the back of McGee's head again. "What are you doing out here without Amanda? She's supposed to have your six."

"Uh…Holy Ground, Boss. I'm safe here." Gibbs sent him a glare and he blushed. "Sorry, I just…forgot. Amanda was asleep and I didn't want to bother her."

"Next time, bother her, McGee. That's why she's there."

"And here," McGee muttered as he felt the tell-tale signs of her presence. "Hey, Amanda," he called as she approached, obviously furious.

"Well, at least you had enough sense to come here," she exclaimed, gesturing at the surrounding cemetery. "What were you thinking?"

_This is worse than being baby-sat by Ziva…_

"Breakfast?" he suggested sheepishly.

"In a cemetery?"

"Breakfast sounds like a good idea. Come on, my treat," said Gibbs with a smirk.

McGee turned to stare at his boss in surprise. "Are you sure?"

"Still gotta eat, McGee. You, too, Amanda. Let's go."

"We're hardly dressed for-."

"You're fine. I know this great little diner, and they don't have a dress code." He turned and started to walk towards his truck parked just outside the gate. McGee and Amanda glanced and each other and McGee shrugged.

"He _is_ the boss…"

Amanda huffed. "Fine. Let's go. But if you ever wander off without telling me again…"

"You can head-slap me, too," he said with a weak grin.

"Don't tempt me, Tim."

XXX

After spending the day with Gibbs while Amanda was out completing several mysterious "errands", McGee waited for her to return and begin his first training session. To say he was looking forward to it would have been a lie, but he was curious as to what the whole thing would entail.

Finally his early warning system (which he had begun to think of as "the Buzz") kicked in and he rose from his seat. Gibbs quirked an eyebrow at him, obviously waiting for an explanation.

"Amanda's here."

Gibbs just chuckled and followed McGee up the stairs.

"Why don't you lock your door, Jethro?" she asked as she stepped into the front hall.

"Nothing worth stealing," he replied. "Besides, a lock won't stop someone who really wants to get in."

"Maybe not, but it will slow them down. You ready, Tim?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

"Don't sound so thrilled, now," Amanda said, and McGee blushed. "I promise I'll go easy on you the first time."

"Oh...OK. See you later, Boss."

"Have fun, McGee," said Gibbs with a grin that immediately told Tim he wasn't going to, at all. He sighed and followed Amanda out to the car.

"Where are we going?"

"I found a place for our sessions, down near the waterfront. The price was right, so…"

"Wait, you bought a place?"

"Well, yeah. We need privacy, and just borrowing a place is a little risky." She glanced at him and grinned. "Don't worry, I'll take it out of you allowance." McGee just rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat. This was going to be interesting…

Twenty minutes later they arrived at a warehouse situated near an old fish processing plant. The smell was definitely not pleasant, and Tim hoped it would be less pungent inside.

Amanda went to the trunk of the car and pulled out two long cases, similar to those used for pool cues. McGee sent her a questioning glance but she just waved him ahead and he cautiously approached the warehouse. Amanda punched in a code at the door and opened it, revealing a large, empty space. She hit a light switch next to the door and the space was illuminated. It was much cleaner than McGee had expected.

She shut the door and set the cases on the floor before opening one and removing a large but rather plain-looking sword, which she held out for McGee to take. He carefully grasped the handle and hefted it, surprised to find it much lighter than he expected.

"Irish bastard."

"Excuse me?" he asked, startled by her comment. She laughed at his expression and hastened to explain.

"The type of sword you're holding is called an Irish bastard. 'Irish' for the shape of the pommel." She pointed to the flat-sided circle with a bar through it on the end of the grip. "And 'bastard' because it's a hand-and-a-half, a sword that can be used with either one or both hands. The grip is longer than a one-handed sword, but not as long as a two-handed sword or broadsword. It gives you a little more flexibility in how you can wield it."

McGee put his other hand on the grip and gave the sword an experimental swing. "It's a lot different than the foils we used in fencing."

"I know. I'm going to teach you a new completely new manner of swordplay, so any of those bad habits that caused you to fail before won't be put to use." She grinned. "Are you ready to get started?"

"I…yes. I'm ready."

"Good." She opened the other case and withdrew a smaller sword. "Let's start with your stance."

XXX

Three hours later, McGee slumped against the warehouse wall and slid to the floor, exhausted. His training session had been more intense than even the physical fitness tests he had taken at FLETC. The only upside to this, he mused, was that now at least his muscles would recover quickly.

Amanda sat down beside him and gently punched his arm, eliciting a groan and a glare from the agent.

"Please don't do that," he begged.

"Oh come on, Tim, it's not that bad."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered. "You never hit the floor, not even once."

"Well, you know what they say: no pain, no gain." McGee groaned again and she laughed. "Seriously, Tim, you did pretty well for the first time. I can't understand why you failed fencing."

"Different attitude, I guess. Nothing fosters competency better than 'do or die'."

"True. Look on the bright side."

"What bright side?"

She paused to think. "I'll get back to you on that," she replied, and laughed when McGee groaned yet again.

They sat in silence for awhile, allowing their breathing to return to normal. Finally, McGee has worked up enough strength to ask a question.

"Amanda?"

"Yes, Tim?"

"Is it possible to have…a normal life? You know, even with all of this?"

"You mean, to continue to do what you did before? Your job?"

"That, and…other things."

"Like what?"

"Relationships…family…stuff like that."

"Well, it will be easier for you than it has been for a lot of us in the past. You have people that know about your immortality, and they accept it." She smiled ruefully. "You haven't been accused of witchcraft and banished, at least."

McGee's eyes widened. "That's actually happened?"

"Yep. Quite often. People fear what they don't understand, and there's probably nothing more incomprehensible than someone dying and coming back to life. We've been shunned, threatened…even killed by those who fear what we can do, or what they think we might do."

"So how do you deal with something like that?"

She sighed. "Many try to find a purpose in all of this, for better or for worse. Some dedicate their lives to helping others, in one form or another. Many of us are transient, never staying in one place for too long. Others find someone else with whom to spend their time. Many have taken mortal wives or husbands, and a few have settled in for something more long term. I have a couple of friends who been together for over 300 years. They've had their ups and downs, sure, but…"

McGee shook his head, unable to comprehend that type of time span. "So those who have mortal friends, or spouses…how do they handle, you know…everything?"

"Well, people do start to notice that we don't age after awhile. We either tell them the truth or move on. You get pretty good at faking your death after awhile," she said with a wink, but McGee wasn't amused.

"And the mortals we leave behind? What about them?"

"They move on, too. I won't lie to you, Tim, it does hurt, for both us _and_ them, but it's a fact of our lives. We don't really have a choice."

"I guess not…you know, it's funny, up until a few days ago, my biggest worry was figuring out how to meet my publisher's deadline. That kind pales in comparison to all of this."

Amanda sat up and stared at him in surprise. "Your publisher? You're a writer?"

"Sort of, yeah. I wrote one book…and you wouldn't believe the trouble that caused me. My second attempt was even worse."

"Why?"

"I…it was stupid, but I based my characters on real people: My teammates. They didn't take too kindly to it when they found out. I did get a lot of fans, but unfortunately one of them took things a little…no, a lot too far. He got a hold of my typewriter ribbons, read everything I wrote, not just what was going into my book, and somehow got the idea that my life was in danger. He started killing the people I used for inspiration for my characters. He almost killed my best friend." McGee winced at the memory of what had followed that incident, but decided to keep it to himself. "Anyway, after that I scrapped the whole idea, but I'd signed a two-book contract, so I've been trying to come up with something new. It's not working."

"Well, I'm sure you'll think of something. Just don't use me as a character. I've already dealt with that once."

"You have?"

"Yeah, some crazy romance novelist was using Immortals as characters in her books. She called me a cheap whore and a thief."

"Oh God, that must have been—"

"I was _never_ cheap."

McGee's shocked silence elicited a giggle from Amanda and she rested a hand on his knee. "I'm sure you'd never do something like that, Tim."

"No…"

"Good. But don't worry, you'll figure out something. I have confidence in you."

"I'm glad someone does…"

She gave him a very light head-slap. "Don't sound so surprised. Now come on, I think we've got time for a couple more drills."

McGee sighed, levered himself to his feet and picked up his sword. As he prepared his stance, he wondered how long it would take before handling the weapon, or anything else associated with his new status felt normal.

He never noticed his silent observer, watching him from the shadows.

XXX

McGee stepped out of the elevator and quickly made his way to his desk, relieved to be in a familiar setting, but uneasy in the fact that he was unable to bring his newest accessory with him. He had left his sword in his car, knowing full well it would never make it through security, and wondered how others like him dealt with such modern inconveniences. He was fairly sure he wouldn't have to worry about other Immortals bringing a challenge to him while he was at work, but still, even after only two days, it felt like a part of him was missing. He didn't like the feeling of vulnerability that accompanied its absence.

His thoughts were soon interrupted by the arrival of both Tony and Ziva. Tony was regaling the Mossad officer with tales of his weekend, apparently spent in the company of several beautiful women, yet she was strangely silent. When she noticed McGee, she immediately walked over to his desk and put a hand on his shoulder.

"McGee. How are you feeling?"

"Fine, Ziva. How was your weekend?"

"It was…interesting." Before she could elaborate, Tony joined them, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Not as interesting as mine, let me tell you."

"I'd rather you didn't," McGee muttered, but Tony ignored him.

"What's a matter, McGeek? No joy in Dorkland this weekend?"

"No, I'm just a little tired. It was a busy couple of days."

"Oh _really_? Do tell, Probie-wan. Oh wait, let me guess: A _Star Wars_ Marathon on TV."

"No."

"_Star Trek_?"

"I wasn't watching movies, Tony. That's _your_ thing, remember?"

"Ah. So then it was the online games, eh, Elf-Lord?"

"Forget it, Tony."

Tony laughed. "I knew it. You really need to get out more, Tim."

"And you need to get to work, DiNozzo."

"Yes, Boss."

"McGee."

He looked up at Gibbs. "Yes, Boss?"

"With me."

McGee stood and followed Gibbs to the elevator. As soon as they were both inside and the door closed, Gibbs flipped the switch and turned to the junior agent.

"Rule number nine, McGee."

"Uh…always carry a knife." Gibbs raised his eyebrows expectantly and McGee pulled out his Swiss Army knife he had taken to carrying after joining Gibbs' team. He held it out for Gibbs to inspect and the lead agent chuckled.

"Don't think that's going to help you much, Tim." Gibbs took off his jacket to reveal the straps of what looked like a shoulder holster, but there was no gun attached to it.

"Boss, what…?"

Gibbs unbuckled one of the straps and removed the holster, revealing a large knife sheath that had been hidden at his back. He handed the set to McGee.

"That should work better."

Cautiously, McGee pulled the knife from it sheath and stared at the dull colored, twelve-inch-long blade.

"Boss…how did you get this past security?"

"It's Grivory: A special type of plastic, so it won't set off any metal detectors. I know it's not as big as the sword you've been learning to use, but I figured it would do in a pinch. Take off your jacket."

McGee complied while Gibbs took the knife and put it back in the sheath. He then helped McGee fasten the holster in place.

"How's that?"

McGee put his jacket back on and shrugged his shoulders, trying to adjust to the feel of the holster. He turned to Gibbs with a grateful smile on his face.

"It's good, Boss. Thank you."

"No problem, McGee." Gibbs patted his shoulder and reached out to slip the switch.

"Any, uh, other rules I should give special attention?"

"Just one: don't lose your head."

McGee managed a smile. "Yes, Boss."

When the doors opened the headed back to their desks, ignoring the questioning looks from the rest of the team. Gibbs announced he was going for coffee and McGee sat down in front of his computer, shrugging his shoulders again when the holster shifter slightly.

"What did Gibbs want with you this time, Probie?"

"Nothing, Tony. Just…giving a bit of advice."

"On what?"

"Nothing that concerns you." As soon as the words left his mouth, McGee winced. He'd have to watch his step around Tony from now on if he didn't want the senior agent to discover his secret, and antagonizing him wouldn't help. "Sorry. He was just telling me to... that I'll need to make good with Abby pretty soon. She's still miffed at me."

"Now I could have told you that, Probie, and yeah, you better. You're going to be spending your paycheck on Caf-Pows this week."

"I don't doubt it."

McGee turned his attention to his computer and ignored the rest of Tony's comments as he started checking his email. He wondered why Ziva had remained silent through the exchange but decided not to draw attention to it. Tony didn't need any more fuel for his daily speculations into his co-workers personal lives.

He had just finished his task when he felt his early warning buzz, and wondered why Amanda had come to visit him at work. He avoided looking for her, since he didn't want Tony to notice, and concentrated on his computer screen until he saw her step off the elevator. Tony noticed _that_ right away and immediately went to meet her.

"Amanda, so nice to see you again," Tony drawled. "I'm afraid Gibbs isn't here right now, though, but—"

"Actually, I came to see Tim." She smiled as Tony's grin vanished and walked over to McGee's desk. He stood and barely managed to hide his worry.

"What's going on?"

"I just wanted to stop by and thank you for a very enjoyable weekend." McGee felt his cheeks start to burn under his teammates' stares. "I also wanted to give you this." She handed him a small, narrow box and planted a light kiss on his cheek. "See you tonight," she said in a stage whisper before whispering in his ear "that should keep him distracted, hmm?" McGee barely managed a smile. He had told her about Tony's nosiness and expressed his concern about keeping the senior agent from learning his secret. It looked like Amanda had a plan for dealing with it. He just hoped it would work.

She turned and waved at his team, then headed back to the elevator. Before the doors had even closed, Tony had reached McGee's desk and snatched the box from his hand.

"Hey!"

He started to shake it but Ziva grabbed it and handed it back to McGee before punching Tony's arm.

"I believe she gave that to McGee, not you, Tony."

Tony rubbed his arm and grimaced. "Whatever, Ziva. Come on, McGee, don't keep us in suspense. What did she give you?"

McGee shot Tony a dirty look before carefully opening the box. Inside was an ornate and obviously expensive fountain pen. Tony looked at it and laughed.

"'_She gave me a pen. I gave her my heart, she gave me a pen.'_" He looked at his teammates, and his grin faded under their twin glares. "Lloyd Dobler, played by John Cusack in _Say Anything_…?"

"Never saw it," they replied in unison.

"Too bad. Good flick. But why did she give you a pen, McGee? Oh, let me guess! She's a fan of Thom E. Gemcity."

"Something like that," McGee replied flatly, but inside he was grinning. He was pretty sure he understood the intended joke. He confirmed it when he read the single word inscription: _mightier._

"Hope she's not as crazy as the last fan you had, McWriter."

"She's not."

"Well, too bad. You know what they say: 'crazy in the head, crazy in—'" He winced. "Thanks, Boss."

"Get your mind out of the sewer, Tony."

"It's _gutter_, Ziva. 'Get your mind out of the gutter.'"

"The sewer is lower, yes?"

"How about we all get our minds on our work?"

"Yes, Boss."

"Yes, Gibbs."

McGee bit back a smile. _Normal. Everything is going to be OK…_

The ringing of Gibbs' desk phone drew all of the team members' attentions, and they watched expectantly while he answered.

"Yeah, Gibbs." He listened, his expression darkening, and McGee felt a strange twist of fear as the lead agent scribbled something on a notepad. Something wasn't right…

"Gear up," Gibbs barked as he hung up the phone, and they all reached for their bags. "Not you, McGee. Here." He walked over and handed Tim the paper. "Get as much information on this guy as you can."

"But Boss—"

"Now, McGee." He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "Find what you can, and call me, but don't leave the building. Got it?"

"Yes, Boss." He glanced up at Tony and Ziva, who were both staring at him in confusion.

"What part of 'gear up' was unclear?" Gibbs asked without even looking at them, and they scrambled to grab their bags before heading for the elevators. As soon as they were out of earshot, Gibbs spoke to McGee again in a low voice. "I mean it, Tim. Don't go anywhere alone."

"Boss, what's going on?"

Gibbs just shook his head and left to join the rest of the team. After they left, McGee let his head drop into his hands.

So much for normal…

He finally looked at the name Gibbs had given him and started to pull up the information. When the man's picture popped up, he stared at it in shock.

"What in the hell?"

Before he could dig any further, he felt the all-too-familiar Buzz. He wondered why his teacher had returned so soon and looked up towards the elevator, but when the doors opened, he froze in disbelief, which quickly morphed into fear.

The Immortal who stepped out of the elevator _wasn't_ Amanda.

TBC…

* * *

Next chapter is called_ Learning Curve_, and after that, the fun starts with Chapter 7 - _Suspicions Arising._


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